


Dancing in a Snowglobe Round and Round

by DoreyG



Category: Stanton & Barling - E.M. Powell
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguing, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Blow Jobs, Canadian Shack, Frottage, Getting Together, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26770867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: Stanton and Barling get trapped in a blizzard, and discover certain things about themselves and their relationship along the way.
Relationships: Aelred Barling/Hugo Stanton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5
Collections: Fic In A Box





	Dancing in a Snowglobe Round and Round

**Author's Note:**

  * For [within_a_dream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/gifts).



He’d been in blizzards before, but never one as bad as this. The world around him was entirely white. No sky above him, no grass beneath him, no trees in the distance… Just white, a sheer and driving wall of snow that chilled him to the bone with every single step he took.

If he’d been alone he would’ve been mildly terrified. He’d known far too many people, healthy young people with their entire lives ahead of them, who’d got caught in a blizzard and died soon afterwards. The snow, when it was this fierce, could steal a life in a matter of moments. Could leave even the most vibrant person, even the strongest fighter, a huddled ball whose body would have to be painstakingly dug out come the spring.

But as it was he wasn’t alone, and as such he was _incredibly_ terrified.

Barling wasn’t exactly unhealthy, although was far too thin and bony for his liking, and wasn’t exactly old, was actually barely ten years older than him no matter how much he liked to pretend that he was in his dotage, but he was a lot more at risk than he was in this storm. Already he was starting to shrink a little, in his saddle. Already his face had gone even paler than it was before, and his skin was freezing cold to the touch.

If Barling died in this blizzard it would be his fault, no matter how hard the other man would try to argue the point. The fear was making him move less efficiently, think less efficiently, exist less efficiently. He knew he should be focusing all of his energy on trying to free them from this, but instead all he could do was dwell on the miserable possibility that he was about to lose another person that he cared for.

As if reading his mind, Barling shouted something to him. It was immediately whisked away by the whip of the wind, much was the pity.

He forced his horse to slow, even though she gave a protesting whinny at it, and fell back until he was riding besides Barling instead of just ahead of him. Probably safer, it would feel even worse to get separated in something like this. “What?”

“I said…” Barling shuddered halfway through his words. He didn’t seem particularly interested in scolding him, which was a worrying sign in and of itself. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked, and not just because an opportunistic snowflake had just attempted to blind him. “For what?”

“It’s my fault that we’re out here,” Barling explained, still at a shout. It was for the best, the wind was doing its best to steal their words even as it was. “If we freeze out here, it will be entirely my doing. I’m sorry, Stanton, you deserved significantly better than this.”

“Don’t be foolish,” he said, taking a limited amount of pleasure at finally getting to turn one of Barling’s favourite criticisms back on him. “This isn’t your fault at all. I was the one who suggested it in the first place, all the blame for this horrid situation should be firmly laid upon me.”

“Although I appreciate your attempt to be responsible, it really wouldn’t be fair in this situation,” Barling argued, although far more weakly than he usually did. “I was the one who decided that the situation was urgent, that the missives we carry couldn’t possibly wait. And I was the one who firmly agreed to this fool’s quest. I am the one who should be blamed for this.”

“Are you going to write that on a bit of foolscap, just so everybody knows?” He couldn’t help but ask, rolling his eyes at Barling’s ridiculousness.

“Maybe I should, so that whoever finds our bodies…”

“It’s my fault,” he interrupted firmly, winning a half-hearted roll of the eyes from Barling’s direction. “And I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. We’re not going to die, Barling.”

“Aren’t we?” Barling retorted, almost as acidic as he usually was. “Stanton… We’re currently stuck in a blizzard in the middle of nowhere with only two horses, limited supplies and utterly inadequate clothing for the weather. I try my best to believe in miracles, as the lord intended, but it would take an extreme one to get us out of this situation.”

“I’m not going to let us die,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to let _you_ die. You deserve so much better than to perish in an out of nowhere blizzard, Barling, you have far too many things left to do.”

“I appreciate your determination, Stanton, but I don’t think that even you can defeat the weather,” Barling said, and for once his voice was strangely soft. “This isn’t a situation for optimism. We should resign ourselves to the fact that this is probably it.”

“I refuse to resign myself to _any_ situation that involves you dying,” he said, a great deal fiercer than intended. “And I’m not going to be badgered into doing so, so don’t even bother.”

“Stanton…” When he glanced over again, just to make sure that Barling hadn’t vanished in the storm, he was mildly surprised to see the man staring right at him with a pensive expression upon his face. “I find it interesting, that you seem to care a lot more about my imminent death than your own.”

“It’s not that I _want_ to die, don’t get me wrong,” he grumbled, meeting Barling’s gaze. “But at the end of the day I’m just the assistant. You’re the brilliant one, you’re the one who absolutely deserves to live.”

“You are so much more than an assistant,” Barling said, surprisingly fierce himself. “I couldn’t do any of this without you, Stanton, and don’t think otherwise for a single moment. You deserve to live just as much as I do, if not more than I do, and I refuse to allow you to pretend that anything else is true.”

They stared at each other silently in the snow for a long few moments. He felt utterly stunned. Barling, by his expression, was only a little less shocked by his outburst.

“Nonetheless…” Barling was the first one to recover, but even then only barely. He drew himself up in the saddle with obviously awkwardness, clutched onto the reins like he was desperately holding on to some sort of lifeline. “Despite myself, I am glad to have you here with me.”

“You are?” He asked, still slightly dazed by what had just been revealed.

“Yes,” Barling, despite his obvious awkwardness, didn’t look away from his face. The man’s expression was guarded in some ways, but so wide open in others that it was a struggle not to just fall into it. “You are the only person that I have cared for in… Well, over a decade. I wish you were not marching into death with me, but I would rather have nobody else by my side.”

“I…” He swallowed, past a sudden and overwhelming feeling lump in his throat. Tentatively reached out, and rested his hand just below Barling’s on his reins. “You know what, same.”

Barling blinked, for some reason seemed utterly taken aback by such news. “Really?”

“Why not?” He demanded, and kept his eyes on Barling’s face just as fiercely as Barling was keeping his eyes on his. “You’re the only person I’ve cared for in quite some time too. You’re brave, and smart, and always do the right thing no matter what. You’re one of the best people that I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t want anybody else by my side in a near death situation, anybody at all.”

“An actual death situation,” Barling corrected, but the correction was absent at best. He bit his lip for a long moment, and then licked them, and then slowly opened his mouth as if not quite believing that he was brave enough to speak. “Stanton, I-”

And their horses whinnied, and came to a sudden halt. As suddenly, as if by a miracle, a rough stone cottage rose up from the blizzard before them.

\--

It wasn't a big cottage, just a two room shack obviously used by a lonely hunter or maybe even a poacher, but from the moment he saw it he knew that he couldn't have loved a mansion more.

He found the stable doors with thankfully little effort, they'd almost walked into the wall right beside them, and was able to bust them open equally easily. There wasn't much space inside, but considering that they only had two horses that was hardly needed. He led his and Barling's mounts in with an incredible sense of relief, found an old piece of wood to jam the doors shut before more than a few snowflakes could blow in.

Both of their horses were trembling and nervy looking, but they were tough beasts and a quick check over confirmed they'd be fine after a little rest in a reasonably warm building. He was far more concerned about Barling, who was still sitting on the back of his horse and shuddering pretty much constantly.

Luckily the shack, which would probably feature prominently in his prayers for the next few months at least, had a door between the stable and the main living room so they didn't have to brave the outdoors again. He gently tugged at Barling's leg until the man blinked and looked down at him, and then helped him to dismount just as gently.

"You don't have to," Barling managed, reassuringly irritable, as he kept his arm around the man on the way to the door.

"I'm going to, so hush," he retorted, and got all the way to the door with only a few reassuring grumbles as argument.

The living room was only slightly bigger than the stable, but was secure from the wind and even had a few reassuring pieces of furniture scattered around. A rough table, two old looking chairs, a big chest hopefully used for storage, a low bed barely raised off the floor, an actual fireplace that whistled with the wind but still had a few barely charred logs in it.

Whoever lived here, probably a poacher judging by the roughness of the furniture, had obviously known there was a storm coming and cleared out to somewhere more civilised before it properly started. Whoever lived here was obviously smarter than them. He spared a rueful thought on that, and then knelt down by the fire and got it started with a few quick and efficient movements.

When he turned back around Barling was, at least, on his feet and looking consciously in his direction. But he was still shuddering hard enough that it was visible, and was still pale in a way that couldn’t fail to be worrying.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, taking a step closer. It was a kind of test, if Barling snapped at him like he usually did then his chances of recovery were high.

“Uh,” Barling said in response, and his heart froze briefly in his chest. But then the man blinked, and fixed him with a gaze so irritated that he sagged in relief under it. “I’m perfectly well, Stanton, there’s really no need to worry.”

“Perfectly well?” He asked, instead of falling to his knees and thanking god - any god, anything that was listening - for Barling’s snappishness. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, Barling, but perfectly well people don’t generally tend to shudder like that.”

“Don’t they?” Barling asked sourly, but with a twitch of his lips like he understood exactly what he was doing.

“There’s no shame in admitting that we barely escaped a terrible situation,” he said gently, instead of mocking. He thought Barling might have responded well to it, for once, but the amount of relief he was feeling made anything other than tenderness impossible. “You’re allowed to be affected by that, Barling. I’m not going to tell anybody else.”

There was a long moment of silence, as Barling absorbed that and watched him with dark eyes. And then the man sighed, and finally allowed himself to ease a little from his straight as a board stance. “I have felt better, I must admit.”

“There we go,” he said soothingly, unable to help a grin, and strode across the room until Barling had to tilt his head back a little to look up at him. “You’re still a little at risk, I think, but it shouldn’t be too hard to get past that. We just have to be sensible about it, that’s all.”

“Sensible?” Barling murmured, arching an eyebrow. “You?”

He smiled again at the teasing, still unable to help himself. Lifted up his hands, and gently brought them to the uppermost fastenings of Barling’s robe.

And was startled, extremely startled, when Barling immediately stumbled back. His face closing off instantly, and a vivid red flush rising to his cheeks. “Stanton, _what_ are you doing?”

“Reducing the risk,” he said, confused. And, as Barling continued to glare at him like he’d just crossed some unforgivable line, increasingly annoyed in a way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “We have to get you out of those wet clothes. I’m already worried about you catching hypothermia, the risk only goes up the longer you remain chilled.”

“Surely the risk is more if I’m left naked in a cold room,” Barling pointed out, his glare softening just a little but his shoulders only going up. “And I’m not sure why you’re so concerned about me to the exclusion of all else. Surely you’re just as at risk.”

“I’m not the one as pale as snow and shaking like a leaf,” he pointed out, only growing more irritated and still not entirely sure why.

“Stanton…” Barling looked, for a moment, like he wanted to move closer but soon mastered himself and remained that careful step away. “You’re just as soaked as me, and probably just as pale as me. Neither of us are in the flush of health at present moment.”

The obvious concern in Barling’s voice cut through some of the rage, but confusingly not all of it. He took in several deep breaths, attempted to master himself as best he could. “Then we’ll both get out of our clothes, and into that bed. The blankets look clean enough, and fairly dry at that. It should be fine.”

Barling took another step back at that, the flush on his face only deepening, and he realized that he’d said the wrong thing again. “It should be _fine_? Sharing a bed together, while we’re…”

“Naked?” He provided, arching his own eyebrow and probably managing a fair glare along with it.

“You know my history,” Barling whispered, staring at him like he was a stranger instead of the man who’d just rode by him through a blizzard. “You know everything that I’ve done. How can you be so blase about such a bad idea?”

“I can be blase because the other option involves you sitting in cold clothes for however long this lasts, catching hypothermia, and dying entirely avoidably in my arms,” he said, unable to hide his frustration, and took a harsh step forward. He only stopped when he saw Barling take another step back, flinching slightly as he did so. “Barling… Please.”

Barling had obviously been expecting more arguing, more anger, maybe even a few insults. At the sudden tenderness he blinked hard, started to look openly uncertain.

“I’ve just gotten used to the idea that we might not die horribly,” he continued, pressing what advantage he had. He didn’t think that he’d ever seen Barling so receptive to such a thing, staring at him with wide and oddly longing eyes. “Don’t make me start worrying about losing you again.”

There was a long moment of silence, as the other man absorbed that. The flush remained on his cheeks, but a wistfully thoughtful expression replaced the obvious wariness.

“Fine,” Barling said eventually, so softly that he half wondered if he’d imagined it at first. “But I’ll do it myself, and you have to turn around while I do so.”

“I can do that,” he said, unable to stop himself from sagging with relief so dramatically that Barling could probably tell. “That’s absolutely great, Barling, _thank you_.”

Barling, still looking awkward, made a sharp gesture with his hand and he read it as well as he ever did. He turned around until he was facing the front of the shack - until he could see the white whirl of snow pressing intensely against the front windows - and waited until he heard the slight rustle of fabric before he got started on his own clothing.

He stripped quickly, not bothering to take much care even though he knew that the lack of it would probably annoy Barling immensely. His cloak was the most ice-encrusted piece of clothing, probably to be expected since it had taken the brunt of the blizzard, but every other piece on him was also ice cold and soaking to some degree. It took some effort to peel it all off his body, and expose his also fairly damp skin. When he got down to his underclothes even they were soaked, so he had to carefully remove them too.

Barling awkwardly cleared his throat when he was done, as if not entirely sure how to navigate the social niceties of the situation. He had to smile a little at that, as he straightened up from dropping his underwear on the floor. At least they were both completely at sea here, even if they were both trying valiantly to hide it.

“You get in first,” he called over his shoulder, very carefully not turning around despite the rather pressing temptation to do so. “I’ll follow, once you’re settled.”

There was a moment of hesitation as if Barling was wondering whether to argue that, but then the man sighed and he heard footsteps and the rustle of sheets. It was only a moment before Barling’s voice broke the silence between them. “You can come over now.”

He turned around, rubbing at his goose-pimpled arms absently, and saw that Barling was already tucked firmly under the covers with his back turned to him. He experienced a brief and ridiculous moment of disappointment at that, but then realized that it was probably for the best as the cold had him standing half hard already.

He crossed the room without a word of protest, and carefully slid into bed besides Barling. He hesitated for a second, weighing the probable consequences against the need to keep them both properly warm, and then sighed and decided that Barling’s life was a great deal more important than his hang-ups. He carefully turned so he was facing away from Barling, and then edged backwards until their backs were pressed up against each other from nape to heels.

Barling, as expected, made a high pitched noise of shock at that. As unexpected, though, he didn’t immediately jerk away - only laid there trembling, as if not entirely sure how to react.

“Just so we can share body heat as much as possible,” he said hurriedly, before Barling could decide that his reaction would be to spring immediately out of bed and start yelling. “Sorry, I’m not sure there’s any other way.”

Barling hesitated for a moment, and then made a soft noise of acknowledgement. They remained in silence for about a minute, both staring in opposite directions and - if he knew Barling as well as he thought he did - trying extremely hard not to think about naked flesh pressed up against naked flesh.

“Stanton,” Barling said eventually to his extreme surprise, his voice tentative and soft in the silence of the room. “Thank you. I am grateful for all of this, even if I’m rather bad at showing it.”

“That’s alright,” he said just as softly, and wistfully wondered how on earth he was supposed to say that he didn’t actually mind Barling’s spikiness. That he found his quick mind and high standards actively appealing. That he was so grateful that Barling was okay, was alive to be sharp tongued and tart, that he would’ve tolerated any amount of lashings. “You’re welcome.”

Barling made a soft, slightly uncertain noise of acknowledgement and then fell silent again. They laid there slightly awkwardly, alone in a bed together with a ferocious blizzard raging outside and a thousand things left unsaid between them.

\--

He wasn't entirely expecting to get to sleep, considering the cold and the fact that he'd started to share his bed significantly less frequently ever since he'd met Barling, but he must've done for when he opened his eyes the room was significantly darker and Barling's limbs were tangled up with his.

The last he remembered they'd been facing in opposite directions with an awkward - downright icy, his sleepy mind provided - silence stretching between them. But their bodies had obviously had an entirely different idea, because in sleep they'd not only turned to each other but embraced in the most intimate of ways. Barling's head was tucked under his chin, his arms were wrapped firmly around his torso and their legs were entwined. They were pressed together from head to toe and, worst of all, their cocks were just as close as the rest of them.

He should've been hurrying to separate them, as gently as possible so Barling didn't wake up and panic at their intimacy. He should've been panicking himself, for that matter, frantically worrying about how he'd only been attracted to women before. But he found himself too tired to move, too tired to pretend that he hadn't wanted this for some time. So instead he just laid there, and appreciated the feeling of Barling in his arms.

He honestly expected to go back to sleep soon enough, to wake up in the morning with Barling safely across the bed from him and have to deal with only the usual, entirely expected levels of awkwardness. But after about ten minutes he still wasn't asleep, and then Barling stirred against him and opened his eyes.

They stared at each other in the dim light for several minutes, minutes that felt like hours or days. Every moment he expected Barling to pull away sharply, to close off entirely, to grow awkward and angry and yell at him and maybe even kick him out of the bed altogether.

But he didn't. Instead, to his profound shock, after a few moments he sighed. And shifted a little closer, until their cocks were pressed right up against each other.

It felt like a dream, and in dreams he was allowed to be so much braver than he was while awake. Slowly, hardly believing his own daring, he shifted forwards until they were even more closely pressed together. And then rolled Barling over onto his back, until the man was pinned beneath him.

Barling didn't protest, didn't even seem unsettled. He hesitated for half a second, and then lifted his chin and clutched his back even more tightly. Almost as if he was urging him onwards, encouraging him to be daring instead of pushing him back.

They stared at each other for a long few moments in the dim light, the lingering embers of the fire providing only scant illumination. That was alright, though, even if they’d been stuck in the darkest cave he would’ve known Barling’s face by memory alone. The bone structure, the soft lips, the big dark eyes that were usually so very guarded but were now fixed on his face with an expression of humbling openness.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, whether it was him lowering his head or Barling arching up against him, but when their lips smashed together it was sudden and all-consuming. An incredible acceleration, like kicking a horse up to a gallop from a standing start. He pressed Barling down hard into the goose feather bed, Barling moaned against him and hooked a leg over his hip to draw him closer. He took advantage of the moan to sweep into Barling’s mouth and tangle their tongues together, Barling only moaned again at the penetration and scratched desperately at his back. They consumed each other, like there was nothing in the world besides the two of them.

He had never done this with a man before, had never even looked at a man and wanted to before he had met Barling, but now he was absolutely consumed with thoughts of how to go further. He took advantage of their bodies being pressed together, of Barling’s leg eagerly hooked over his back and dragging him in, and started to thrust. Awkward at first, but steadily gaining speed.

He’d expected Barling to protest at that, to finally come to his senses and pull out of the incendiary kiss with sharp words of mortified reproof, but instead he only let out another one of those incredibly eager moans and clutched all the harder at him. It only took a moment for the man to absorb his rhythm, and then he was rolling up into the thrusts with an enthusiasm that suggested he’d been longing after this for just as long as him.

A nice thought, one of the nicest thoughts that he’d ever had, but he refused to allow it to distract him from the matter at hand. He steadily picked up speed, until he was downright fucking Barling into the mattress. He’d never been particularly possessive when it came to love making, had always tended to bed fairly easy going women who never asked too much of him, but suddenly he had the bizarre urge to drive all other lovers from Barling’s head.

Barling seemed amenable to being driven out of his mind. The man let out another low groan, and then threw all caution to the wind and actually cried out so loudly that it echoed all around the small room. With only the slightest bit of urging, barely the brush of a hand along his thigh, he was lifting up his other leg and wrapping it firmly around his waist. The position only served to drive their cocks all the more firmly together, sending sparks of sensation flooding right through him.

They moved together at a faster and faster speed, already starting to lose control of themselves. He felt like he’d been waiting for this for so long, if only half consciously, that he just couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He found himself using Barling desperately, almost roughly. He ground and ground, pressed their cocks together, moaned at the top of his lungs… And still felt like it wasn’t enough. He wanted to touch Barling everywhere, he wanted to undo the man completely and be undone completely in return.

Barling himself seemed significantly more enthusiastic about the idea than he would’ve ever guessed from waking life. In response to his desperation, his roughness, Barling offered him unbridled passion. He moaned, loudly and almost musically. He clutched on as hard as he could, hard enough that bruises would probably litter his shoulders in the inevitable morning. He clenched his thighs tight around his waist, held on as if he feared this coupling might vanish like a dream the moment he let go. He even reluctantly unclenched one hand from his shoulders, wound it between their bodies and took a tight grip on both of their cocks.

The desperate rhythm that he’d built, right on the edge as it was, fell apart at the first touch of Barling’s soft palm. He threw his head back and cried out, helplessly lost, and when he lowered himself again found Barling staring at him with greedy eyes. He felt like he couldn’t control himself, like even the vaguest attempt would be futile. He eagerly lost himself in Barling’s sweet moans, Barling’s flesh, Barling’s intimate touch driving him ever closer to heaven.

Barling, at least, seemed equally lost. Equally undone by this sudden, unexpected, blissful passion that had sprung up between them. They moved together as if in a dream. The entire world narrowing to the slide of sweat slicked flesh, the sweetness of moans, the sheer rightness of a coupling so long avoided but so absolutely vital to the both of them.

Barling came first out of the two of them, which was hardly a surprise considering how utterly undone he’d been from the beginning. The man stiffened for a long moment underneath him, and then let out the most glorious sob that he’d ever heard and relaxed entirely. A moment later he felt hot liquid spurt against his stomach, and a certain sense of disbelieving triumph.

He didn’t have long to revel in it, maybe half a minute at most, before he was following Barling over that irresistible edge. He cried out again, loud enough that his voice echoed around the room, and spent himself all over Barling’s stomach just as the other man was starting to stir. He expected at least a mild show of disgust, a sharp awakening for the both of them, but instead Barling only sighed dreamily and held him as he shuddered. He’d never felt so close to another human being, so warm, so safe.

They collapsed to the bed together in the aftermath. Panting and shaking, covered in come and bruises, entwined together in a way that could surely never be separated. He pressed a kiss against Barling’s hairline, tender and heartfelt. Barling hesitated for only a moment, before arching up and joining their lips together properly again.

\--

When he next woke up it was to a blast of cold air across his chest, a soft noise of frantic panic from his side and a sickening feeling of dread starting to pulse in his stomach.

Unfortunately he was still half asleep, and so his response to all those things was to grumble, turn over in the bed and throw his arms around the warmth that was trying to wriggle away from him. There was a long moment, in which he drowsily wondered if he could just keep his eyes shut and go blissfully back to sleep, and then the warmth besides him made a far louder panicked noise and shoved at his arm.

He frowned to himself, getting steadily closer to consciousness by the minute and desperately not wanting to, and grumbled again. And then finally, begrudgingly, reluctantly opened his eyes and forced himself to face whatever was trying to drag him so stubbornly from sweet dreams.

And saw Barling staring at him with wide and terrified eyes, the blanket clutched right up to his chin, and _remembered_.

He let go of Barling immediately, so suddenly that the man almost tumbled right off the bed and took the blanket with him, and scrambled as far back as he could without fully revealing his nudity and making the whole situation worse. He was suddenly well aware of the disarray of his hair, the puffiness of his lips, the come still caked across his stomach.

Because he'd slept with Barling last night. He'd kissed Barling, and caressed Barling, and pinned him to the bed. He'd had his tongue in Barling's mouth, his hands in Barling's hair, Barling's legs wrapped around his waist. He'd touched Barling's _cock_. And in the end, so very sweetly at the time, he'd made Barling convulse and cry out and come all over the two of them.

"Oh my god," he said through numb lips, and barely conquered the urge to reach out and make sure that Barling was real and whole in front of him. "Oh my god, Barling."

It said a lot for the situation that Barling didn't even glare at him for his blasphemy. Instead the man only remained frozen and staring, glassy eyed in his panic. It should've been hilarious how he was still clutching the blankets to his neck, like he had anything above the waist to hide. It most decidedly wasn't.

"I am so sorry," he said, because it seemed important to make that clear. They'd crossed over so many lines last night, broken all their carefully constructed unspoken rules without a thought, and he felt sick at the idea that they'd gone past the point of no return. "Barling, You have to believe me. I never meant for this to happen, certainly not like this. I meant-"

For this to grow naturally between them. For him to slowly face up to the shadowy places in his mind, where a longing for Barling had been blossoming slowly and beautifully. For Barling to realise that love didn't always have to equal pain, that some of the deep scars in his mind could heal. For the two of them to come together tentatively, carefully, as the best versions of themselves. For a thousand things, that would probably never happen now because of his mistakes.

Probably best not to say any of those things. Not with Barling still looking at him in such a way, wide eyed and desperate.

"I'm sorry," he settled for instead, humble and slightly desperate himself, and reached out for Barling with a tentative hand. "Are you alright-?"

And Barling flinched away from him. A flicker quick movement that would've been barely perceptible to anybody who didn't truly know him, but which he saw unfold in slow motion and terrible detail.

"Oh," he said, his hand hanging limp between them, and suddenly didn't want to be in this bed. Or, to be perfectly honest, in this room or county or country. Even being on this planet, at present moment, seemed a rather unappetizing prospect. "I… I see. I guess that answers my question, then. "

Barling looked like he wanted to say something at that, but mercifully remained silent. It was for the best, really, as it was perfectly obvious that there was going to be no positive response to this mess of a situation.

"I- I should go check on the horses now, " he said through slightly numb lips, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor. "You know, make sure that they survived the night and we have a way out when this blizzard is over. All that sensible stuff."

He grabbed for the edge of the blanket, so he could carry it about himself like a strange robe as he fled. Realized, at the last moment, that this would involve ripping it from Baring's white knuckled hands, and ended up turning the motion into a frankly ridiculous looking slap of his knee. He considered for a moment, with Barling still watching him, and in the end decided to just give in to necessity and grab the flat pillow from behind his head.

He beat a hasty exit to the connecting door, holding the pillow over his flaccid cock all the way. It was only when he reached the door that he realized that Barling would've had a perfect view of his arse from the moment he’d left the bed, and he couldn't help a wince as he turned apologetically back.

Barling was still staring at him fixedly, a new flush high on his cheeks. The man looked incredibly handsome, with such a colour, and he cursed himself for noticing.

"I am sorry," he said awkwardly, feeling the need to try one last time.

Barling opened his mouth, and then very slowly closed it again. It was obvious that was the best he was getting. The only thing left to do was yank open the door, and make a hasty retreat.

The stable was mercifully warm, more well insulated than the living room to tell truth, and the horses whickered at him welcomingly as he closed the door behind him. He should've been relieved at the escape from awkwardness, at the opportunity to gather his thoughts with simple animals instead of confusing people.

Instead he threw the pillow on the floor, lowered himself down on top of it, put his head in his hands and attempted to breathe as deeply as he could.

\--

Eventually, for he knew very well the dangers of dwelling, he picked himself up from the pillow on the ground. He could shove down the fact that Barling didn't want his apologies, downright flinched away from his touch, seemed to regard last night with a mixture of regret and repulsion. He was good at shoving things down, it had become an effective defence mechanism over the years.

The horses were, mercifully, absolutely fine. Barling's horse, one that he'd deliberately picked out for the man due to its incredibly placid temperament, seemed barely aware of the ordeal that it'd just gone through and was cheerfully busying itself in eating hay. His horse, far more speedy but unfortunately also far more nervy as a result, was a little more on edge but soon calmed after a few soothing pats and whispers.

It wasn't ideal to be tending them as naked as the day he was born, but he was as careful as he could be. He got them fresher hay, and cool water from the pump in the corner. He checked them over for injuries, and when he found that they had none but were still a little damp from their struggle through the blizzard he found a rough but serviceable blanket and rubbed them both down.

When he was done with that, and still incredibly unwilling to walk back into the living room naked but for a pillow pressed over his cock, he glanced around the room for something else to do. Surely he could procrastinate a little more? He was good at it, after all, Barling complained often enough of the fact.

His hurried assessment of the room last night had largely been right, he noted with as much amusement as he could muster at the moment. It was significantly bigger than the living room, obviously built by a person who considered horses more important than human beings. It was secure and warm, only the slightest whistle of the wind filtering through. There was enough hay to feed the horses for at least a fortnight, if not longer, and there was a pump in the corner that he already knew produced cool but liquid water. Whoever had built this place had obviously been rather smart, and incredibly well prepared. He wished that they'd been that sensible, when they'd set off on this fools errand…

But wait, maybe they hadn't been quite as foolish as he'd been lamenting. He traced his eyes across the floor absently, and then paused in shocked joy as he saw their bags still resting in the spot where they 'd dropped them. In the next moment, so quickly that his horse whinnied in disapproval, he was across the room and on his knees before them. A quick rummage revealed that they hadn't packed more than a day or two of food, much was the pity, but Barling's paperwork was still intact and there were _clothes_ mercifully tucked in underneath.

He dressed quickly, never having felt so glad to leave his nudity behind. He didn't do a very careful job of it, just threw his braies and shirt on haphazardly and didn't bother to meticulously do up every single button, but he didn't think that mattered much. Even Barling, with his usual adorable attention to detail, would surely agree that it was better to be dressed in a situation like this.

Barling…

He hesitated for a second, but he was neither cruel nor a coward and there really wasn't much point in delay. He took in a deep breath, and then strode over to the door and knocked before he could second guess himself. "Barling?"

There was a long moment of silence, and he wondered if Barling was just going to ignore him and remain silent. But then he heard the rustle of fabric, and tentative footsteps. "Yes?"

"I found our bags. There are spare clothes in them." He pressed his hand against the door. Realized what he was doing a moment later, pining like a parted lover, and jerkily withdrew it. "Do you want me to slide them through to you? I won't come through myself, not until you're ready."

There was another long silence, one which he waited nervously through, and then Barling let out a familiar sigh. "That's probably for the best."

He pushed the door open a crack, not far enough to see even an inch of Barling, and carefully slid the bag through. He hesitated for another moment, more uncertain than he'd ever been, but when Barling didn't move for the bag with the door still open he sighed himself and shut it again.

There was another rustle of fabric soon after, and he should've been relieved by that but most decidedly wasn't. Instead he just sat back on his haunches, stared at the closed door and felt sad and sick in equal measure.

"I am sorry, you know," he told the wood.

There was a brief pause in the rustle of fabric, and then it started up again even more intensely than it had before. As if Barling was trying to lose himself in meaningless routine too, except probably out of disgusted regret instead of mind numbing sadness. "I don't want to talk like this, Stanton."

He frowned at the door, wished desperately that it was Barling's face. "How are we going to talk, then?"

"I don't know." Another pause, another almost brutal rustle of fabric. "But not like this."

He took in a deep breath. "Barling…"

" _Stanton_." There was a long pause, and then another sigh. He wondered how a simple exhale, one that he'd heard probably hundreds of times before, could be quite so painful. "Just… Stop. Alright?"

"Alright," he said softly, and went back to staring miserably at the door.

\--

It took another ten minutes, another ten minutes that seemed like an hour, before Barling awkwardly called for him again. And he spent the entirety of that time staring at the door, desperately wishing that things were different and miserably knowing that they likely never would be again.

When he got to his feet and opened the door fully, no awkward half measures this time, he was somehow surprised to find Barling not still sitting in bed with the sheets clutched up to his chin. Instead the man was standing across the room by the old wooden table, which now bore two plates piled with a serving of meat.

“Oh!” He had rehearsed a thousand things to say in the time he’d spent in the stable, a thousand awkward beginnings that he couldn’t see a way forward from no matter how hard he tried, but when he saw the food his body took over. He hadn’t eaten since they’d left the town yesterday afternoon, and his stomach was cramping with hunger. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, lowered himself down before the offering with a certain sense of relief. “Where did you find food?”

“There were provisions in the trunk,” Barling provided quietly, mercifully not wincing away from his presence again, and lowered himself down into the chair across from him. “About enough meat for two weeks, enough bread for a little less and some oil to make the cooking a bit easier.”

“So we won’t starve, then,” he said, already piercing a bit of what looked like cured sausage with his eating knife and shoving it into his mouth. “That’s good, I was worried about that. We have enough supplies for a few days, but beyond that…”

"Things would've started to get an awful lot more complicated, I know," Barling murmured as quietly as before. When he snuck a gaze up from his plate of meat, he found the man stubbornly staring at a point just above his shoulder but to the left of his head. "They may still get complicated, though. Without water-"

"There's a pump in the stable," he said, narrowly resisting the urge to demand that Barling actually look at him. Actually acknowledge his presence beyond polite, meaningless conversation. Actually say something about what had happened between them and changed everything so irrevocably. "The horses have drank from it, and it seems clean."

There was half a second where Barling's eyes slid incredulously to him, but then the moment passed and he looked away again. "I'm not sure how I feel, drinking water meant for animals."

"If it's good enough for horses, it's good enough for you," he said, a great deal sharper than intended. He didn't have much of a temper, had always been blessed with a relatively light and easy temperament, but this entire situation was leaving him decidedly on edge. "I know it's not ideal, but if it's a choice between something not ideal and death then I know what my decision is going to be."

"I didn't mean-" Barling cut himself off. When he glanced up again, still surreptitiously, he took brief pleasure in the way the man had gone slightly red. "Obviously if the choice is between life and death I would be happy to swallow my pride. I'm not that bad, no matter how I normally act."

"I didn't say you were," he said mildly, immediately feeling guilty for taking any pleasure from Barling's discomfort. He didn't deserve to be punished, especially not for the 'sin' of being awkward in the aftermath of a coupling he obviously regretted.

"But you implied-" Barling seemed to notice, to understand, that he didn't want an argument and trailed off with the same slightly miserable expression of guilt on his face. Stabbed a sausage with his own eating knife, so hard that he heard it clink against the plate, and started to miserably eat.

They ate in silence for a long few moments, both studiously avoiding looking at the other. 

"I think we're in a pretty good position," he said eventually, awkwardly, because he wasn’t the type of person who could resign himself to a silence such as this one. "All things considered."

Barling, obviously far more used to comporting himself through awkward situations and wasn't that a thought that made his heart bleed, remained silent for a stubborn second more before answering. "Trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with nobody aware where we are and no idea when this blizzard will end?"

"At least we have a cabin," he said, again significantly more snappish than intended, and made sure to moderate his tone as Barling's eyes widened just slightly. "And food, and water, and horses to take us out of here when this blizzard does eventually end. Things are a lot better than they could be, we should remember that."

Barling gave the ghost of a smile, shocking him. It was alright, though, the expression didn't last for long. "You're always so positive, Stanton."

"And you're always so negative," he retorted, but couldn't even bring himself to be angry this time. He liked Barling's cynicism, liked how good it felt every single time he managed to wriggle past it. "Together we just about make a normal person."

Barling snorted. And then realised that he'd snorted, and hastily returned to his plate. Another long silence stretched between them, as he watched the man with a certain sense of despair unfurling in his chest. It really wouldn't ever be the same, would it? He'd ruined the best relationship in his life, and now only these jagged shards were left.

"At least you're talking to me again, now," he heard himself say, and a part of him flinched even as another part of him felt a sick satisfaction. "I wasn't sure that would happen."

Barling froze for a long moment, and he found that he was holding his breath. Would Barling finally break, and scream at him? Or tear him apart with a few well aimed lashes of his tongue? Or even explain what he'd done wrong, in calm and level tones? Surely anything would be better than this endless, stretching frozen silence punctuated with the torture of polite conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Barling whispered eventually, and he knew a moment of astonishing hope. But when he finally looked up again, so very ready to discuss this and get through to the other side, he found Barling deliberately staring into space away from him again. “I- thought you said everything that you needed to, this morning.”

He stared at the side of Barling’s face. And, for the first time in years, knew a flash of genuine anger. “So you acknowledge that it happened?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Barling said tightly, and a quick glance down confirmed that the man was clutching the side of the table like a life raft. “I always acknowledge that morning is a vital part of the day, Stanton. You’re the one who does his best to avoid it.”

“You know very well that that’s not what I meant,” he said, as levelly as he could, and folded his arms so he could better resist the temptation to just reach for Barling. “I’m not talking about mornings in general, I’m talking about this morning specifically. And, for that matter, the night that came before it.”

Barling drew in a breath. He obviously wanted it to be deep and bracing, but instead it was shallow and somewhat unsteady. “As I said, I think you said everything that needed to be-”

“No, I didn’t say what needed to be said. I just said _everything_ ,” he said desperately, and found himself starting forward for a moment before he managed to catch himself and lean on the table instead. “While you sat there silently, and didn’t say a word. I just want to discuss this, Barling. I just want to get it all out in the open, and not have it hang between us anymore. I want to move past this, instead of remaining here like this.”

There was a long moment of silence, stretching between them vibrating and potent. Like a thread, hung between two points. Or a knife, just about to claim its next victim.

“Barling,” he never had been good with silence, not in all his life and certainly not with Barling sitting right before him. “I really am sorry-”

Barling’s eyes finally slid to him. But he didn’t know even a second of relief, because the look in them was hardly inviting. “And it’s all about you, is it?”

It hurt, and the fact that it probably hurt Barling more to say it hardly improved matters. He rocked back in his chair, tried to breath past the sudden stab wound in the centre of his chest. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“I’m hard pressed to see what else you could’ve meant,” Barling interrupted him, and his voice was sharp. Even worse, though, was the look in his eyes: some anger, yes, but mostly the kind of pain that made him want to tear his heart out of his own chest. “I don’t think there’s anything else that needs to be said. And, that being true, I don’t want to discuss this anymore. Or even think of it.”

“But…” He breathed in deeply, forced himself to sit up straight in his chair. “I really think that we should.”

Barling looked entirely unmoved, apart from the open wounds of his eyes. “And I don’t.”

“But there’s so much to work through,” he said, and realized that his lips were numb around the words. “So much I want to say. Please, Barling. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, not for even a single moment. I don’t want-”

“Stanton,” Barling interrupted him again, and the ice in his tone this time was colder than the blizzard outside and cut far deeper than any knife he’d ever faced. “Stop talking, and leave it alone. Please don’t make me repeat myself again. Please don’t make me make it into an order.”

“But,” he said helplessly, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Barling-”

“ _Stanton_!” Barling snarled, and it was the first time - in their years of acquaintance - that he’d ever heard the man’s usually measured voice rise up into a yell. “If you continue like this then I am perfectly happy to open the door, walk out into the blizzard and leave you alone. It will be far more enjoyable than this current conversation, of that I am sure.”

They sat in frozen silence for a long few moments, staring at each other. There was regret in Barling’s eyes, instant and harsh, but that hardly made anything better. The words still hung between them, impossible to take back. The fact, that Barling would rather walk out and die in the snow than discuss what they had done together for even a second more.

“...Alright,” he said eventually, relieved when his voice didn’t emerge too choked, and rose to his feet in a jerky motion. His plate was still half full before him, meat that he would’ve usually been happy to eat, but suddenly the thought of forcing anything else into his stomach was anathema to him. “I have to check the horses again. I’ll leave you to eat the rest of your meal in peace.”

“Stanton, you just got done checking…” Barling started, almost automatically, and then obviously realized what he was saying. He clamped his mouth shut, stared at him with desperately hurt eyes. He was aware, in sudden and vivid detail, that he was the only one who had put that expression there and that he was making it worse with every single moment of his presence.

“They need to be checked,” he repeated, in a hurried murmur, and made his desperate escape yet again.

\--

The next few days were awkward, to say the least.

He stretched out most of the day after Barling had rejected his attempts at reconciliation, permanently and painfully, in the stable. He tended the horses thoroughly, and when they started looking annoyed at his meddlesome presence, turned his attention to the packs and sorted through them. He found nothing beyond what he'd already noticed, but still kept searching until Barling awkwardly called him in for dinner.

After dinner, with perhaps slightly darker snow up against the window, the awkward matter of sleeping arrangements came up. It was resolved when, after several long and uncomfortable minutes of staring, he took half the blankets and went to sleep by the fire. Barling looked like he wanted to protest for half a moment, but then closed his mouth and went quietly to bed. They slept safely apart that night.

When he woke up the next morning, on the second day, he found that he had turned in Barling's direction even in his sleep. He felt angry at that, and then the anger faded to a heartbreaking sadness that felt like a wound in the chest. He left before Barling woke up, went to sit in the stable and try to get his head on straight.

It didn't work, by the time he emerged from the stable - several hours later - his head was still whirling. Mercifully Barling had already gone back to bed, the only sign that he'd even been up a plate of dinner with a towel over it to keep warm. It could've been interpreted as a peace offering, but not even he was that optimistic. He ate it anyway, and then went to lie in his nest of blankets with that same sadness still in his chest.

On the third day Barling was already awake when he started from his sleep, and was already carefully not looking at him. For a moment he wanted to scream at the man, to force him to acknowledge his presence and actually get them moving past this… but no, he was well aware that that'd only make matters worse. Instead he rose carefully, and ate the breakfast that Barling laid in front of him in small mechanical motions.

When he made to leave for the stable again Barling made a soft noise, but one loud enough that he glanced back. Their eyes met for a long moment, and the breath caught in his lungs. He had rarely seen Barling look so tentative, so raw. The only time he'd witnessed the man making such an expression before had been just before he'd confessed the truth of Paris.

Unfortunately they both had that thought at the exact same time, and it broke the moment as surely as a knife. Barling blushed, and glanced hastily aside. He sighed, and retired to spend the entire day in the stable yet again.

The fourth day was the Sabbath, a fact he only realized because Barling was already on his knees and praying fervently when he awoke. He propped himself up on his elbows, and allowed himself to watch the man while he was distracted. Your desires aren't a sin to be prayed away, he wanted to say, what we did together wasn't a sin. But to do so would've crossed a line that he was no longer sure quite how to negotiate.

So instead he stood up. And, when Barling spared him the briefest glance as if wondering about his own hard to cross lines, walked across the room until he could kneel down besides him. They spent the entire day praying in slightly startled silence besides each other, and even at the end of it he couldn't be sure if it was for judgement or mercy.

On the fifth day they woke up at about the same time, which was probably a first in all the time they'd known each other. Barling blinked sleepily down at him from the bed, he blinked drowsily up at Barling from the floor. And suddenly he thought about how they'd prayed all day next to each other yesterday, about how they knew each other better than any other human being, about the heat of Barling's mouth slotted over his. And suddenly it was too much.

"Hugo-" Barling protested when he rose hastily from the floor, and then clamped his mouth shut as he realised the vulnerability he'd unwittingly shown. He didn't need any further encouragement, quickly escaped to the stable and unhappily remained there for the rest of the day.

And the night, for when he awoke on the sixth day it was to the tickle of hay against his face and Barling staring down at him with an unreadable expression. He sat up slowly and, still a little dazed by sleep and the lack of a bed, sent Barling a challenging glare. Speak to me, he dared with his eyes, scream at me and rail at the world and let every single one of your emotions out. Do something, Barling, do _anything_.

Barling didn't. The man only stared at him for about half a minute more, and then turned on his heel and marched out of the room. The sixth day passed much as all the days before, lost in a quagmire of unspoken resentment and a distance between them that seemed to grow steadily bigger by the moment.

And when he thought of the rest of his life stretching out just as awkwardly as this, his heart broke in his chest again and again.

\--

On the seventh day there was light.

Not exactly biblical, but accurate. He eyed the windows as he was eating breakfast, and then stepped right up to them when he was done. There was definitely a glimmer there, a fash where before there had only been whirling snow. Hope, perhaps decidedly false hope but still more than he'd had for a week.

"I think it might be easing up," he said, and then remembered the days of awkward silence that'd stretched between them and immediately cramped his mouth shut.

It was too late, Barling had already heard him. "You think or you know?"

"As I said, I think. I still wouldn't allow anybody to go out there-" Unless it was to avoid a single moment of my presence more, went unsaid between them. "-But I think it's a positive development. We might be able to leave here soon, and get back to civilisation. "

When he glanced back Barling wasn't looking at him, but was rather staring intently down at the table. He didn't know why that suddenly pissed him off, but it most definitely did. "That's a good thing. Thank you for telling me, Stanton."

"Of course it's a good thing," he snapped, reacting to both the unaccountable uncertainty in Barling's voice and his own frustration that he'd been pushing down for far too long. "After all, when we get back to civilisation we never have to see each other again. And that can only be a positive development."

That, at least, got Barling looking at him again. With wide-eyed shock, practically bordering on horror, but at least it was an acknowledgement of his presence.

"I thought you'd agree," he said nastily, and then immediately felt guilty. This cabin was sending him crazy, turning him into something he wasn't. He sought out the familiar sight of the stable door with some relief. "Look, I'm going to tend to the horses. Have a nice day."

But this time, when he was barely halfway there, Barling's voice broke the silence. "That was cruel."

He stopped dead, staring into space. Breathed in slowly, breathed out even slower. He felt right on the edge of something yet again, a precipice that should've been terrifying but instead only beckoned to him. "I'm sorry, I thought that was just how we talked to each other now."

"You know very well that it's not." He heard the rustle of fabric, heard Barling stand as if he was finally - _finally_ \- pulling himself up for an argument. "You know very well that we've barely been speaking at all, lately."

He stared at the stable door. Took in one deep breath, and then another. And suddenly he was furious, angrier at this situation than he'd ever been in his entire life. "And whose fault is that?"

"Stanton-" he heard a startled intake of breath, knew that he'd shocked Barling yet again. Good, he thought with a viciousness that he'd never quite experienced before, maybe the man deserved to be shaken up a bit. "That was also unwarrantedly cruel."

"No," he said, hearing the anger in his own tone, and spun around until he could fix Barling with a gimlet glare. To his surprise the other man didn't back down, only raised his chin and met him anger for anger. "What is cruel is what you've been doing for the past week. What is cruel is shutting a person down every single time he tries to make things better. What is cruel is letting a person hope, and then crushing it beneath your heel. What is cruel is taking a person to bed, letting him touch you in the most intimate of ways, and then acting like that pleasure was the worst thing in the world!"

Barling blanched, grabbed for the back of the chair he'd just risen from. He cursed his foolish heart for feeling even a moment of sympathy. "I- I told you we weren't going to talk about that."

"Yes, you ordered me. You ordered me while flinching from my touch, and looking at me like I was dirt, " he said bitterly. "And then you have the nerve to lecture me about being cruel, like you haven’t been worse in every single way."

"Stanton…"

"It's fine to regret what we did, it's fine to never want to do it again. I would respect that, I have no desire to force you into something you don't want, " he swallowed, blinked away the prickle of tears as he drew himself up. "But it's not fair to blame me and me alone for us going to bed together, it's not fair to punish me for it. It's not fair to pretend that it didn't happen."

"I didn't mean-" Barling licked his lips, looking decidedly pale. A part of him, a rather large part, wanted to do something about that but simply didn't know what. "I thought it'd be easier this way. I thought that it was what you wanted."

"Well, it's not," he said, voice admirably even considering that he currently wanted to scream a thousand questions in Barling's face. "I don't want to be blamed. I don’t want to be tortured for an act that I genuinely enjoyed. And, even if you don't want me again, I don't want to forget."

Barling sucked in a sharp breath. He expected a sharp retort, a tongue lashing that would probably remove yet another vital part of him, but all he got was the slow blossom of red over Barling's face.

"I don't want to forget waking up in your arms," and so he pressed his advantage, feeling daring in a way entirely new to even him. "I don't want to forget kissing you, or the way your body felt underneath mine, or the way you rocked against me, or that little cry you gave when you came. I don't want to forget a single moment of that night, and probably won't for as long as I live. "

Barling swallowed, a jerk so sharp that it was visible. The red flush remained on his face, so vivid that he could've seen it even through the dark. "It would be better if you did."

"Better for who?" He demanded, heard the harshness of his voice but decided that he was tired of hiding it. Tired of ignoring his own pain, just so Barling could indulge in burying his head in the sand for a little longer. "Because based on this past week it certainly isn't better for me, Barling. It's awful. I think I'd almost prefer it if you'd just stabbed me and got it over with."

"Don't-" Barling took a deep and steadying breath in, and then obviously decided that he'd had enough of being steady himself and took an angry step forward. "You are not the only one who is suffering here, Stanton. Stop acting like you are."

"Seriously, you're going to try and order me around right now?" He let out an angry bark of laughter, well aware that he barely sounded like himself. "And what happens if I don't obey them, are you going to accuse me of being selfish again because I have normal human emotions?"

Barling blanched briefly, and then went right back to that angry shade of red. "Well, if the shoe fits-"

"No," he said, and was only aware that he'd shouted when Barling blinked at him like a ruffled cat. "You don't get to do that, not this time. You don't get to call me selfish, when you threatened to walk out on me altogether. You don't get to make me feel bad for wanting you, for caring about you."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad for caring!" Barling protested, his voice also significantly more raised than it usually was. "I don't understand why you do, but I'm not. I'm just saying that you're not the only one suffering through this."

He snorted. For the first time in his life, he actually snorted right in Barling's face. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Barling blinked, and then glared. He'd never seen such a glare directed at him, not even in the early days of their acquaintance. "Do you really think that I'm that heartless?"

"What am I supposed to think after the past week, Barling?" He demanded, not even minding the glare because at least it was proof of _something_. "When you constantly shove me away, and shut down my every attempt to make sure you're alright. When most of the time you act like I'm not even there, just a blank space that you'd rather not be aware of. Hardly the actions of a man with a heart."

"I'm always aware of you, " Barling said, his voice full of emotion. And he had only a moment to blink over that, before the man moved stridently on. "And how can you not see that I'm suffering just like you, when you've apparently been watching me so closely? Apparently your skills of observation are as bad as I initially thought."

"You've been suffering as much as me, perhaps," he said, unwilling to let on how much that last jab had hurt. "But I refuse to believe you've been suffering like me. Because I've been suffering because I'm not allowed to touch the person I care for the most ever again, while you've seemingly been suffering because you regret the touch of a person you never much cared for in the first place. "

Barling's jaw actually dropped open. He expected another acidic retort, quick on the heels of the last one, but instead the man only looked shocked.

"You know what, that's none of my business," he said, and was mildly embarrassed to find that he was right on the edge of tears. "Torture yourself all you like, make yourself feel bad forever about the simple sin of being human. Just please, please, stop torturing me in the process."

Barling's voice, when it finally emerged again, was little more than a whisper. "Stanton…"

"Because I'm genuinely not sure how much more I can take," he confessed, over Barling’s soft voice, and abandoned all attempt at dignity to swipe at his eyes. The urge to flee was suddenly strong again, and he saw absolutely no reason why he shouldn’t give into it "...And now I'm actually going to tend to the horses, have a good night."

He turned to the stable door, and moved towards it at a speed that could best be described as a trot. Maybe if he buried himself in work for long enough he'd forget how much everything hurt. It hadn't worked with Rosamund, but maybe the second time was the charm.

But then he was stopped in his tracks, by a surprisingly strong hand wrapped firmly around his bicep.

"Barling-"

"You honestly think that I don't want you?" Barling asked, sounding more undone than he'd ever heard him, and yanked him around so he could see the full extent of his desperation. "You honestly think that I don't care?"

"Again," he said, feeling somewhat dazed before the force of Barling's unexpected rage. "After the past week-"

"You honestly think that I didn't enjoy what happened?" Barling interrupted him, voice rising to a savage pitch. "You honestly don't think that that was one of the best nights of my life, and I haven't been struggling with just how much I needed it for the past week?"

His jaw dropped open. He wasn't quite sure, he felt decidedly dazed, but he thought his entire world might have just rearranged itself in an instant. "I-"

"You honestly don't think," Barling said, and stepped so close to him that they were breathing each other's air. "That I've wanted you for years? That I've been trying to protect you for years? That I care for you more than anybody else I've ever met?"

They stared at each other from close up for a long few moments. He felt on the edge of a precipice yet again, except this time it wasn't only terrifying but glorious. He couldn't help but notice every twitch from Barling's direction, every panting breath and desperate narrow of his eyes.

"Maybe you’re right, maybe I'm really not that observant," he said eventually, pitching his voice as a deliberate challenge.

"On certain matters you're apparently as blind as a bat," Barling agreed, passionately, and arched up on his toes until he could slam their mouths together.

\--

He'd thought that Barling's kiss had been wildfire before, but he'd obviously had no real conception of the word. While their first few kisses had been eager, this one was downright passionate. Barling threw his body against his, twined both hands hard into his hair and smashed their lips together like there was no tomorrow.

For a long moment he was frozen. For all his hopes, for his steadily dawning realization towards the end of that desperate fight, he'd never expected Barling to actually act. At any moment he expected to be shoved away, to be screamed at, to be left alone as Barling marched off into the snow.

But then Barling moaned against his closed lips, a sound exactly like he'd made when he was rubbing his cock against the man's stomach, and he decided that he might as well enjoy the moment now and worry about the consequences later. He didn't quite take control of the kiss, that was impossible with Barling so hot in his arms, but he did become an active participant in it. He wrapped his arms around Barling's waist, he lowered himself slightly so their bodies could press more surely together, he even opened his mouth to Barling's tongue and felt a surge of disbelieving glee as the man swept right in.

They made out like that for a long few moments, dimly aware of the world outside but both making the sensible decision to dismiss it entirely. There was only Barling's body in his arms, Barling's lips pressed up against his, Barling's tongue in his mouth. There was only all that he'd ever wanted, for the past few years at least.

And then Barling obviously decided that he wanted more. And who was he, to resist a desire like that? One moment they were pressed desperately together from head to toe, and the next Barling was gently pushing him back. He had no time to worry about the end of their sudden embrace, though, because Barling kept pushing him until he had no choice but to sink down into one of the rickety wooden chairs.

He blinked, stared up at the man now standing above him with not a little confusion. "Wha-?"

But matters soon became abundantly clear. Barling stared down at him for but a moment, he eyes dark, before sinking down to his knees in one smooth moment. His mouth dropped open on a gasp, and Barling took advantage of his distraction to push his legs open and then trail deliberate fingers up his thighs.

"You don't -" he found himself saying as Barling ran his fingers over his most sensitive flesh, even though he'd suddenly wanted nothing more in the entirety of his life.

"I want to," Barling said, in a desperate whisper, and flickered intelligent eyes up to his face as he brought equally clever fingers to rest on the fastenings of his braies, his long tunic already pushed up and out of the way to provide better access. "That is, if you're willing…?"

" _Yes_."

Barling smiled at that, a little quirk of his lips that was the most good humour he'd shown in a week, and bent his head to the vital task of getting him out. He’d expected a little fumbling, an understandable bit of uncertainty at this vital point, but somehow Barling’s touch was determined and certain. The man easily undid his lacings, and then brushed aside the scant undergarments underneath and brought his cock eagerly out.

The only pause was when his cock was fully out, his braies shoved halfway down his thighs and his shirt pushed up to expose his stomach, and even then it was hardly a hesitant pause. No, this time it was more _hungry_. As if Barling was drinking in every single inch of his naked flesh, and finding intense pleasure in all of it.

He had never been a particularly pushy lover, was generally easygoing and willing to roll with whatever partner he took to bed, but under Barling’s slow and thorough perusal he felt set aflame. He wondered if the man would really mind if he laced his fingers into his tonsure and dragged him in properly. He also wondered, even more desperately, if the man would mind if he opened his mouth and begged as prettily as he could.

Luckily, or unluckily as the case probably was, he didn’t need to resort to either option. In the end Barling slowly rocked forward on his heels, and swiped a slow and thorough tongue over the head of his cock. As if tasting him like a fine wine, filing away the flavour of him as if it was worth absolutely everything.

It was only a tentative touch, he had received far more expert ones from a variety of people, but it still undid him. He gasped, jerked his hips up pleadingly before he just about managed to stop himself and tangled his hands in Barling’s hair as a compromise. His entire world was already receding to desire and heat and the teasing trace of Barling’s tongue, and he could hardly bring himself to be opposed to it.

Barling’s eyes flickered up to him at his abortive thrust, and he detected a decidedly pleased expression in them. Obviously encouraged, and why the hell shouldn’t he have been, the man slowly started to take him deeper. Slid his mouth first around the crown, suckling on it almost innocently as if unaware of the effect that he was having, and then steadily lower. Before long Barling was starting a slow bobbing motion on his cock, obviously getting used to the feel and taste of one again.

It still wasn’t an expert movement, but it was already the best blowjob that he’d ever had. He gasped again, and then let out a full bodied moan and tightened his grip in Barling’s hair. The suction was incredible, a wet slide that left him panting and shaking. Even more incredible, though, was the sight of Barling so willingly taking him in and so obviously taking pleasure in it. The sight had him right on the edge, after but a few tentative bobs.

Barling again noticed how undone he was, and again seemed to approve. The man was always a lot braver than he said he was, than he thought he was, so he soon started to go faster and deeper. His movements were still a little clumsy, but they gained steadily in confidence as he got more and more used to what he was doing. Before long Barling was bobbing his head like a pro, flicking his eyes up only to gauge his reaction to every little movement.

His reaction remained positive, for how was it supposed to be anything else? His moans grew from a scattered handful, to a steady chorus that he just couldn’t seem to stop pouring out of his mouth. His grip in Barling’s hair must have become almost painful, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to ease the clench of his fingers. Even more incredible than the sight of Barling was the _feel_ of Barling, the dampness of the man’s mouth around him and the brief caresses of his fingers and the overwhelming knowledge that Barling was doing this all to prove something to him.

Barling kept moving like that for a long moment, taking him deeper with every bob. He had never thought that the man would be particularly playful in bed, but there was a certain teasing light in his eye that made him hastily reconsider. It was almost as if Barling was enjoying playing with him, was enjoying learning how to take him apart completely.

Luckily enough, he rather enjoyed being taken apart completely. He buried his hands even more deeply in Barling’s hair, with a brief caress to the man’s skull that had him gloriously shuddering, and gave himself over to every single sensation. There was nothing beyond Barling’s mouth, Barling’s tongue, Barling’s eyes fixed upon him and driving him ever on.

He saw the moment, the very moment, where Barling decided to get even more daring still. Barling paused for a long moment, drawing breath in through his nose, and then plunged right down his cock until his lips touched the very base. It was a sudden move, a mark of ownership that would’ve undone any man.

Barling drew back a moment later, coughing and choking with tears standing out in his eyes, but the damage had already been gloriously done. He cried out, so desperately that it was practically a sob, and felt his fingers tighten in Barling’s hair as his release rushed up on him. He was suddenly reduced from human to the level of an animal, desperate and wanting, and never had anything felt so right in his life.

It took only a few more thrusts, Barling returning to suckle at the head of his cock with a slightly dazed look in his eyes, before he tumbled over the edge entirely. And then there was only white light, and heat, and the sweetness of Barling making a slightly startled noise but then tentatively - and then, even sooner, eagerly - swallowing everything that he had to offer.

And, for the first time in over a week, he believed that everything would turn out alright.

\--

They sat together in silence for a moment after his orgasm, both panting and uncertain. Barling was absolutely silent, his head bowed and his pointy chin resting firmly on his knee. For his part he was an odd mixture of confused and hopeful, only able to sit there with his cock out and marvel at the direction his life had suddenly taken.

Eventually he managed to lick his lips, and draw himself further up in his chair. He had only the beginning of a sentence, but that would just have to be enough. "Barling-"

And Barling rose immediately to his feet in a movement that was jerky where his descent had been smooth. Cast him a desperately conflicted glance for half a second, and then turned to the stable door and progressed through it at what could best be described as a panicked jog.

A few hours ago, even a few minutes ago for Barling's dismantling of him had been admirably swift, he would've taken great offence at that and let it make the situation worse still. Now he just sat back in his chair, caught his breath and thought for a long few moments about the contradiction in human form that was Barling.

And eventually, because his feelings on that contradiction were almost all positive or sympathetic, he rose to his feet and followed Barling through to the stable.

The man was sitting in the corner furthest away from the horses when he came in, staring into space. He startled when he noticed his presence, but didn't attempt to run off into the still ongoing storm. Instead he only coloured a little, but seemed to deliberately make himself keep looking.

He didn't speak immediately, knowing instinctively that this entire situation needed careful handling. Instead he thoroughly busied himself with the horses. Made sure they were dry, and fed, and watered. Allowed them to snuffle against his hands, and gently butt their heads against his chest. Even checked them for any little injuries, as thoroughly as he dared. And all the while he watched Barling out of the corner of his eye,waited for the man 's shoulders to go down and at least some of the tension to fade from his face.

"You can go in if you want," he said eventually, pitching his voice deliberately casual. He felt Barling's eyes flicker to him, wide and uncertain, and found himself praying for the second time in a week for possibly the first time in his life. "I think you deserve the slightly more comfortable brooding room, after all."

Barling's eyes remained on him for a long moment, and he knew a brief moment of doubt. Would the man go right back to ignoring him? Or start screaming at him? Or even follow through on his hasty promise of almost a week ago now, and go walking off into the blizzard without a backwards glance?

But no. Eventually, impossibly, Barling gave a ragged laugh and sat up a little against the wall "...I'm sorry. I think there may have been a few misunderstandings."

"I think there have been," he agreed amiably enough, just about managing to hide the intense stab of hope in his chest, and released his horse with one final pat. Every step towards Barling felt more terrifying than the last, but he believed with his whole heart that it'd be worth it in the end. "Do… do you want to talk about it?"

"A large part of me really doesn't. A large part of me just wants to keep burying my head in the sand, and trying to forget every single thing we've done together. " Barling's eyes slid in his direction, and the man winced a little at the involuntary expression of terror that'd probably just crossed his face. "But that hasn't worked out so well for us, has it?"

"No," he said softly, and heard his next confession spilling out from between his lips without any conscious effort from him. "I've missed you."

"That's ridiculous, Stanton. I 've been right here besides you the whole time. " Barling managed to keep a stern expression on his face for half a minute, and then sagged a little against the wall and let out a soft sigh. "I must admit that I know what you mean, though. I've missed you too."

“Would it help if I started?” He asked carefully, and yet again knew that sharp stab of hope when Barling took a deep breath in and then nodded firmly. “Alright, then. I’ve enjoyed every single thing that we did together, more than I’ve enjoyed anything in a good long while.”

“Oh. Are you sure?” Barling asked, and blinked hard when he gave a very enthusiastic nod. He was suddenly reminded that the man, for all his numerous and obvious talents, could sometimes be remarkably insecure. “Even the… Uh, the inexpert thing that I did with my mouth just now?”

“You call that inexpert?” He asked incredulously, not bothering to keep any of his disbelief out of his voice. “Barling, that was one of the best blowjobs I’ve ever had. How could it not have been, when it was your mouth wrapped around me?”

“Oh,” Barling said a third time, and looked tentatively pleased. It was so rare to see the man looking proud, taking any justified pleasure in how competent he was, and his heart grew several sizes at the sight of it. “I will be honest, I thought that you didn’t enjoy the first time all that much. I thought you regretted it.”

“I definitely did,” he said hastily, and blushed a little as Barling arched a pointed eyebrow in his direction. “Enjoy the first time, that is. And I definitely didn’t regret it. I… I’ve been wanting to do it for quite some time, as a matter of fact.”

“I thought you were upset,” Barling continued with some effort, obviously forcing himself to be brave every single step of the way. “I thought that you’d suddenly realised that you’d been coerced into bed by a decrepit, middle aged man with unholy designs on you and immediately decided - rightfully so - that you deserved so much better than my unbridled and utterly inappropriate lust.”

"How-?" He had thought, somewhat arrogantly, that he was beyond being shocked. But Barling's words went straight through him, and right out the other side. "Barling, how could you think that?"

"Bitter experience," Barling said, with a sad twist of his mouth that made his heart bleed. "Which then proceeded to warp certain facts. The fact that you looked at me with horrified eyes, the way you couldn't stop apologizing to me, the way you allowed me to avoid you for almost a week."

"Barling…" He stuttered over his words for a long moment, eventually decided that the man deserved nothing less than the complete and unbridled truth. "I apologised to you because you were looking at me with such horror, I allowed you to avoid me because I thought that was what you wanted."

"I know," Barling said bravely, maturely. But when he stared at the man for a long moment that expression crumpled, became something raw and significantly younger looking. "I thought you were disgusted by me."

"I'm not, " he said instantly, desperately, and even reached out to grab Barling's hand with the force of his passion. "How could I ever be? Barling… you really are the most important person in the world to me."

They blinked at each other for a long moment. He expected Barling to pull away at any moment, but in the end the man only sighed and turned his hand so their fingers were entwined. "You actually mean that."

"Of course I do," he said softly, and stroked his thumb over Barling's palm until the other man shuddered. "...Your turn?"

Barling hesitated at the tentative prompt, but for significantly less long than he'd expected. Soon he was giving a crooked smile, and leaning back against the wall. "I am also not disgusted by you."

"Really?" he couldn't resist teasing, still high on getting his old Barling back even if it was just briefly. "I never would've guessed after that blowjob…"

"Hush, Stanton. If I don't get through this now I may never do." Barling frowned at him sternly, but his eyes were warm. It was perfectly clear that the man had suffered just as much from their distance as he had. "I wanted everything that we did together, from the very first brush of your lips. I've wanted you for a while now, since the Monastery if not even earlier. I didn't think I could ever care for anybody ever again, after Richard, and then there you were. Perfect."

"Perfect?" He said, well aware that his voice emerged significantly more breathless than intended. He couldn't help it, the affection in Barling's voice was so very clear.

"In an imperfect way, Stanton. Don't think that I've gone too sap headed," Barling sniffed, but that fond light was still in his eyes. He even looked a little shocked, as if he hadn't expected the baring of his vulnerabilities to feel so very good. "I think that's why I withdrew so completely. I'm not used to getting things that I actually want."

He wanted to draw Barling into his arms at that, to pepper his face with kisses and promise him the whole world on a platter. But he restrained himself just for now, just barely. "Does that mean that you don't actually regret it?"

Barling, as expected, hesitated for a long moment at that. "I-"

"It's alright," he hurried to say, an also entirely expected tenderness unfurling in his chest. He couldn't believe that he'd once been so foolish as to think that he preferred uncomplicated people. "I won't judge you, Barling. Not this time, not ever again."

"It's complicated," Barling said to his hands, and then took in a deep breath and bravely met his eyes again. "I'm not sure how much of it is actual regret, and how much of it is feeling like I should regret it. I was taught for so many years that to feel like this way was a sin, and what happened in Paris only confirmed that in my mind for better or for worse."

"That makes sense," he said softly , and made sure to keep holding onto Barling's hand as hard as he could.

"You're such a kind boy, lying to me like that," Barling said wryly, and then hesitated once more and took in a deep and uncertain breath "...I can't help but feel like I'm corrupting you. Like you'll be dragged to hell because I've seduced you into a life of sin."

They fell silent for a long few moments, Barling slightly trembling with the intensity of his confession and him thoughtful. There were a thousand things he could've said to that: incredulous denials, passionate arguments, surface level reassurances that Barling would see through in a second.

Instead, he settled for simple and direct. "Did you want what we did?"

"Yes," Barling said immediately, albeit looking slightly confused.

"And do you care for me?"

"Yes," Barling said even more quickly, a growing frown on his face.

"Then we'll work through it," he said softly, but firmly, and squeezed Barling's hand in his again. "It doesn't have to be now, we don't even have to acknowledge what we did if you want, but one day we will. I'm willing to wait for you, Barling. For however long it takes."

Barling's lips parted wordlessly for a long moment, but the look in his eyes was neither anger or sadness but rather the beginnings of desperate hope. "Do you really think that will work?"

"It has to,' he said, softly firm yet again. "Because I care about you, and if this is what you need to make you happy then I'll do it and do it happily."

There was another long moment of silence, and then Barling let out a soft laugh and reached out to take his other hand too.

\--

The next morning, after a day spent far more comfortably and hopefully than the ones before it, he awoke to the fire already crackling and Barling watching him thoughtfully from the old wooden table.

Barling's gaze wasn't particularly nervous or regretful, so he allowed himself to preen underneath it a little. He gave a long stretch, noticing with some glee how Barling's eyes remained on him throughout the process, and then carefully extracted himself from his nest of blankets. "Good morning."

Barling smiled at that. It was whip quick, there and gone within moments, but he still couldn't help but revel in it a little. "Good morning to you, also. That is, if it is still morning."

He arched an eyebrow at that, unreasonably pleased at the return of Barling's tartness. He always rather enjoyed it, despite himself, and it was so much better than the miserable and stretching silence. "Going to start nagging me about being a layabed again?"

"I'm not sure that'd be reasonable, considering that we seem to be rather outside time while this blizzard is ongoing. " Barling paused for a second, and gave another quick smile that made his breath briefly catch in his chest. "I will note, however, that I was up before you yet again."

He actually laughed at that, just couldn't help himself. And, when Barling only looked pleased at provoking pleasure, crossed the room in a few quick strides until he could slide into the chair across from the man. "What are you doing?"

"Playing chess," Barling said, deliberately not tensing at his presence. Which was a most definite improvement. "I have no actual pieces or board, but I had a few spare scraps of paper and it was easy enough to draw up a rough version. It'll do, until we can return to civilisation. "

"A rough version," he mused, and picked up one of the pieces of paper on his side. On it was a carefully drawn pawn, one more intricate than he could've managed in years. "Barling, these are absolutely amazing. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Oh, hush." Barling blushed, but looked notably pleased at the compliment. He suddenly found that he wanted to compliment Barling all day and every day, if it would raise a reaction like that. "You know very well that I'm bad at some things. Riding, for instance. And dancing."

"Dancing?" he questioned, arching an eyebrow. "But you can carry a tune…"

"Yes. But if you ask me to move I become all elbows and start tripping over my feet. I assure you, it's an entirely unpleasant sight." Barling bent his head for a moment, toyed awkwardly with a picture that looked like a queen. "I'm also, as you may well have noticed, bad with people."

He frowned, though even a year ago he would've been hurrying to agree with the man. "I'm not sure you are. You got me to like you, after all. "

"You like everyone," Barling said, slanderously. "And I will note that you're saying that after a week of me desperately shoving you away at every possible opportunity. "

"That's in the past," he said firmly, and sighed a little at the rather pointed look that Barling gave him in response. "The recent past, but still the past. You were scared, and dealing with so many problems of your own. Neither of those things make you bad at people, Barling."

"It's more than that. " Barling sighed himself, still toying with the picture of the queen. He was going to rip it, if he kept up as passionately as all that. "I have too high standards. I'm spiky, and picky, and rarely happy with anything. I'm obsessive about pointless minutiae, I care only about boring things. I'm desperately afraid of absolutely everything. Really, it's no wonder that nobody likes me."

"As I said," he said firmly, reaching out a hand to lay over Barling's and stop his desperate fiddling. "None of that makes you bad at people, _or_ a bad person. Besides, what you're saying simply isn't true. I like you."

"And as I said, you like everyone," Barling murmured, still not meeting his gaze "...I just don't understand _why_."

“Why I like you specifically?” He asked softly, even though he already knew the answer to that question. “Barling… How couldn’t I like you? You have amazingly high standards, so high that it makes people want to be better just to have a chance of being equal to you. You’re smart, and witty, and care passionately about doing the right thing. You’re talented at pretty much everything, and instead of hoarding that talent you long to teach everybody that you meet. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever met, bar none. Really, it’s a wonder that everybody you meet doesn’t fall at your feet and worship you.”

Barling’s eyes shot up to him, his lips parting on a silent gasp. A long moment of silence stretched out between them, as their eyes met and held.

“Stanton…” Barling gulped eventually, licked his lips and drew himself carefully up in his chair. “I want you to come back to the bed with me tonight. Not to do anything, not yet, but- You deserve it.”

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but it was certainly a nice sentiment. “If you’re sure? I’m fine with the floor, I’ve slept on worse…”

“Yes, but you deserve better,” Barling said, looking awkward but resolute. “And I- I would like you next to me again.”

“Alright,” he said softly, unaccountably touched.

“...So.” The moment of silence, significantly more tender this time, was broken by Barling deliberately clearing his throat and leaning back into his chair. The man’s hand tugged loose, but with a regretful caress against his palm that made him shudder slightly in his own seat. “Would you like to play a game?”

“We can if you want,” he said, slightly uncertainly but as willing as ever to follow Barling wherever he wanted to go. “I’m not sure if I know all the rules, though. You might have to remind me of them, or just yell at me if I make any illegal moves.”

“I have no problem with that,” Barling said, bowing his head to the board again with a smile so smug - so utterly carefree - that something warm expanded in his chest at the very sight of it. “If anything, getting to teach you while we’re playing will only add to the pleasure of the game.”

“I thought…” He hesitated for a second over what to say next, but the naked pleasure on Barling’s face was enough to drive him on. “I thought that you hadn’t played any games since Paris.”

“I hadn’t,” Barling said, quite casually, and flickered his eyes up to him briefly as if to hammer home the point of the words. “Up until about a year ago. And then I met you, and everything seemed possible again.”

“ _Oh_.”

They smiled at each other helplessly again, and then both bent their heads to a game that they both knew - happily - Barling would inevitably win.

\--

The next morning they woke up across the bed from each other, in largely the same positions they'd fallen asleep in. He knew a brief moment of passionate disappointment, of thwarted longing because he had hoped to end up in Barling's arms yet again, but then Barling gave him a sleepy smile and reached out to brush fingers briefly over his palm and everything seemed alright again.

"I'm still not sure that it's clearing at all," Barling said with a frown when they'd finally roused themselves properly, peering out of the window with a decidedly concerned expression. "Do you think it looks any better?"

He finished the last few swallows of his breakfast, sat back in his chair and gave the whirling snow a considering look. "I think it is a bit better. Not by much, but by some. I'd say that it'll fade at some point in the next week."

"Hm," Barling said, a touch dubiously, but did return to his own seat. "I guess I'll take your word for it. You are, after all, more of an expert than me in this arena."

"One of the few arenas in which I am." He grinned, and won another brief smile from Barling for the compliment. "I'm guessing you've never been through anything like this before?"

"Unless you count what happened at the monastery, which was a decidedly different situation, then not really." Barling wasn't the type to do anything as ill bred as shrug, but he did make a rather more casual gesture with his hand than usual. "I've seen snow before, of course, but generally in situations where it's a lot more easily manageable than this. I rarely left the cities before you, as hard as it may be to believe."

"I've exposed you to a whole host of new experiences, then," he teased, and took a certain pleasure in the smile tugging at Barling's lips as he nodded "...Do you mind it?"

"No," Barling said instantly, and then blinked as if he too was surprised at the passion of his answer. "No, I thought I did at the beginning but… That was just foolishness. Life has become more complicated since I met you, yes, but also so much more fulfilling. Before I met you I was sleepwalking through existence, counting down the minutes until I could go to my final rest. And now I'm awake. "

"Oh." He found himself unexpectedly touched at Barling's words, to the point where he felt tears prickling in his eyes. For once, he didn't immediately hurry to brush them away. "You may not believe it, but same."

Barling arched an eyebrow, but he seemed more curious than mocking. "Really?"

"There was a girl, long before I met you." It felt strange to actually talk about this, after so long spent pushing it down, but there was nobody better to speak to than Barling when it came to this. "Her name was Rosamund, and I loved her. And… It's a complicated story, but the short version is that she died and I was partially responsible. And I've carried that with me ever since."

"Oh," Barling's mouth dropped open, and then he immediately reached out across the table and took his hand in his. "Oh, Hugo."

"So, you see, I was sleepwalking through life too." He took in a deep breath, unsurprised at how much it hurt. At least he had Barling sitting across from him, holding his hand and watching him with such tender eyes. "I thought that if I buried myself deeply enough in alcohol and whores, then maybe I could bring on judgement day quicker. I longed for it, even… And then I met you."

There was a long moment of silence. Barling kept a tight grip on his hand, his eyes firmly on his face. He revelled in both, held on tightly to Barling's fingers and drank in his eyes in return.

"I'm glad," Barling said eventually, soft into the silence of the room. "That we met each other, just when we both needed it the most."

"As am I, more than we can say." He smiled into Barling's face. Decided, yet again, that the man deserved him at his most daring. "Aelred."

He expected Barling to withdraw immediately at the use of his first name, to blush and stutter and become adorably flustered before him. But instead Barling only ducked his head, and gave a small smile that really shouldn't have been arousing but really was. "It does seem a bit ridiculous that we've been referring to each other by last names after all that's passed between us, doesn't it?"

"You mean the sex?" He asked innocently, because apparently he was fundamentally incapable of holding his tongue even when it was sensible to do so.

"Hugo!" Barling did flush at that. But, to his surprise and pleasure, didn't actually draw back from him the slightest bit. " _Yes_ , I suppose I do. But also… So much more than that. Everything we've shared with each other, every dream and disappointment and desperate hope. Every tribulation and triumph. Everything. You've dragged me from the grave both literally and figuratively, it only makes sense to afford you the courtesy of your first name."

"That does make sense," he agreed, holding up his hands in a hasty apology. "You're the first person I've ever told about what happened with Rosamund. The first person I've ever told about a lot of things, really."

"And you're the first person I've ever told about Paris, " Barling said softly, honestly. "Or Richard, or about how guilty I felt over both. You're the first person I've shared myself with fully in over a decade, and… Somehow you've made it feel so very easy."

The moment should have felt awkward and heavy, but it didn't. Instead it only felt absolutely and utterly right, like the sun finally coming up after a week of rain.

"Hugo," Barling said eventually , softly but with a clear smile in his voice. "Then."

"Aelred," he said, in much the same tone, and couldn't help a sunbright grin from breaking across his face at the name in his mouth.

They went about the rest of their business happily on that day, both knowing that a line had been crossed and both knowing that it was the best line possible.

\-- 

The next morning, to his surprised pleasure, he woke up with Barling in his arms again.

The man was asleep when he awoke. His long lashes were dark against his cheeks, and he breathed in and out in a wonderfully peaceful manner. Barling generally strived to present a certain image in working life, that of a tired middle aged man with the entire world on his shoulders, but asleep he was nowhere near as put together. He looked vulnerable, and peaceful, and so young that it was suddenly easy to remember that the man was a bare decade older than him.

He should’ve probably moved away, but the pleasure of having Barling peaceful in his arms was so intense that he found that he couldn’t easily set it aside. Instead he simply laid his head back on the pillow, and drowsily watched Barling sleep with a fond, affectionate feeling slowly blossoming in his chest.

It took about ten minutes for Barling to wake up, ten minutes spent in that peaceful in between place where everything was right and nothing bad could possibly intrude, but even when he did his reaction wasn’t immediate. Instead the man only blinked awake, yawned peacefully, snuggled closer into his side for a long moment with the slightest nuzzle of his lips that practically had him melting into the bed.

The man awoke fully in the next moment, of course, and startled back with a low gasp… But even then he didn’t jerk fully away, only stared at him from a near distance with wide eyes.

This past week and a half had been full of choices, and another clear one spread out before him now. He very deliberately stretched out besides Barling’s understandably stiff body, didn’t attempt to roll closer or gather up the man against his side but also didn’t particularly try to move away. He just remained there, warm and safe and allowing Barling to think besides him.

“It’s Saturday, by my reckoning,” he said after several long moments more, in which Barling remained semi-frozen in a position of obvious indecision.

“I’m pretty sure this is inappropriate on any day,” Barling said, but although his words were harsh his voice was ever so soft and the look in his eyes was hard to interpret as anything other than utterly tempted.

“Yes, but…” He yawned again, allowed himself another stretch. Also allowed himself, this time, to notice the way that Barling’s eyes lingered on the brief flashes of skin exposed. “What I _meant_ was that it’s not the lord’s day, and the snow still hasn’t cleared. Technically we don’t have anything to do other than lay in bed and relax a little.”

Barling’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but although he was trying hard to look disapproving he was also quite obviously fighting amusement. “We have to eat, Hugo.”

“Are you hungry?” He asked mildly, trying not to show how much he thrilled at Barling casually using his first name.

“No,” Barling said slowly, drawing the word out as if reluctant to admit it. He had to hide a quick smile, at just how adorable the usually fearsome man looked in that moment. “But we could, uh, play more games. I’m sure that I’ll make a chess player out of you yet, with just a little more practice.”

“You could pray for a miracle, yes,” he said, and had the unique pleasure of watching Barling stifle a hasty smile. “I’m just not sure that it’d be all that fun. Especially if you had to pray for one, or even play for one, in this cold and draughty room…”

Barling knew very well that the room was perfectly secure, rather warm with the fire going and reasonably non-draughty even with a blizzard blowing outside. The man still settled further into the bed, gave that a thorough moment of consideration as if he’d just raised a profound point “...The horses?”

“Are getting slightly annoyed by how much I’ve been fussing over them, to tell truth. I probably do need to glance in at them today, but they can keep for just a few hours.” As much as he was enjoying the game, he was still sleepy and desperately wanted the warm weight of Barling back in his arms. He slowly, almost tentatively, edged across the bed back towards Barling. Was pleased, when the man hesitated for only a second before sighing and sinking back against him. “Aelred… Do you really mind the thought of spending all day in bed with me?”

There was a long moment of silence. And then, to his mild disbelief and utter joy, the man let out another soft sigh and snaked a warm arm around his waist. “Not when you call me Aelred, no.”

“Aelred,” he whispered again, utterly charmed, and just about managed to bury his face in the hair of Barling’s tonsure instead of choosing the other option and kissing him senseless. “Cuddle with me, just a little longer?”

Barling didn’t even hesitate for a moment this time. The man snuggled right up against him, tightened his arm firmly around his waist and even hooked one tentative foot around his lower leg as if making as sure as possible that he wouldn’t be able to worm away. “You are a _menace_.”

“You like it,” he said, grinning into Barling’s hair like a fool who had never known affection before.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Barling let out a soft and helpless sounding laugh and nuzzled warmly into his neck again. “I more than like it, Hugo.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

He remained frozen for a moment himself, struck breathless by what Barling had just come close to admitting, but then grinned like a fool again. It was easy enough, more than easy enough, to wrap his arm more firmly around Barling’s shoulders, to bury his nose firmly in the man’s hair and willingly twine their legs together until they were bound up completely in each other.

They fell back into a doze like that, warm and safe and so happily entwined that he believed - honestly and truly - that nothing would ever be able to part them.

\--

The rest of the day passed in a peaceful, half disbelieving daze. They cuddled together for what felt like most of the morning, and even when they did have to rise they didn't stray far from each other. He helped Barling to make two meals, taking pleasure in how their hands brushed during the process. Barling followed him to the stable, watched with what he suspected was put on curiosity as he tended the horses. They played a few cursory games of chess, Barling winning every single one and barely keeping his gloating to a smug smile.

It was… Nice. So much nicer than he'd ever thought he'd be allowed to have, in all the years since he'd seen Rosamund’s lifeless body lying on the floor.

Eventually, after their evening meal, Barling took to staring out of the window again with his chin in his hand and a thoughtful expression on his face. The whirling snow was maybe a little less thick, but even he had to admit there was no noticeable improvement.

That was alright, it was a pleasure to watch Barling even when he was pensieve. He cleared away the plates from their last meal carefully, went to stand right behind Barling and watch the whirling snowflakes with him. "What are you thinking about?"

Barling gave him a distracted smile, turned back to his intense perusal of the driving white. "Nothing much. I was just wondering what'll happen if this still fails to clear in the next few weeks."

"Well," he said practically, undeniably drawn to Barling's dreamy tone. The man usually sounded so very sharp, it was both a pleasure and a privilege to hear him soften just a little. "If it's another week or so it'll probably be fine, we have enough supplies to last us until then. If it's any longer than that… well, I can't lie. We may well starve."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Barling gave a surprisingly explosive snort. "Hugo!"

"What?" he asked innocently, with his most angelic smile. He hadn't thought that it was possible to be more charmed by Barling than he already was, but as the man pressed shaky fingers to his lips he found a whole new level of appreciation.

"That was more worthy of me, than it was of you," Barling said sternly, but was obviously trying to push back an involuntary smile. He wasn't succeeding very well, judging by the continuing twitch of his lips. "I expected you to say something optimistic, to tell me some wonderful story about how it'll all be alright if we have each other."

"You keep telling me to be realistic, Aelred, you can't lecture me when I finally follow your instructions," he teased, and deliberately leaned against the wall just a few scant inches from Barling's warm body "...It'll probably be fine. This blizzard has already lasted far longer than expected, I'm pretty sure it can't last forever."

"Thank you." Barling sniffed, regaining some of his usually tightly held dignity. "That fluffy bit of optimism was all that I actually wanted to hear."

He smiled in sympathy, unable to help himself from being so helplessly drawn to the man. Took a slow step forwards, until they were just a breath away from touching. "What were you actually thinking?"

"Doom laden musings of my own," Barling said dismissively, obviously dishonestly. The man could've stepped back at any moment, he'd deliberately left room, but instead he only tilted his head back to view him better and smiled just slightly. "Apocalyptic level fantasies that only a practiced worrier could produce. You really don't need to know about them."

He smiled. Decided to act even more daring, and leaned in until he could brush his lips right up against Barling's ear. "Aelred."

"Hugo," Barling murmured in return, breathless. When he drew back the man's eyes were wide and wondering, but he quickly - far quicker than he'd ever expected - smiled. "Very well, perhaps I wasn't being entirely honest."

"No?" He asked, undeniably awed at the thought of Barling giving him so much.

"No," Barling repeated, still smiling just slightly. "There were no apocalypses involved at all. In truth I was thinking far softer thoughts, thoughts better suited to you. I was thinking, dreaming, that maybe we could stay here for the rest of our days. Cozy up here, just us and the horses, and cuddle under warm blankets and play endless games of chess and lose ourselves in each other until we both forget that anything else exists. Be happy together, forever and for always."

If Barling's previous words had surprised him then these ones utterly stunned him. He couldn't help but stare down at the man adoringly, until he coloured and started to shift slightly awkwardly on his feet. "You're right, it is worthy of me. It sounds nice."

"This entire stretch of time has been nice," Barling said, still a touch breathless. And then made a face, as if he was still unused to getting carried away by the giddiness of affection. "I mean, not the first week or so."

"No," he agreed, barely biting back a laugh at Barling's fumbling.

"But everything that came after that," Barling continued firmly, gathering his formidable dignity around him like a cloak but still - impossibly - not pulling away. "Just being with you here, like this, has been a dream and it's one I never want to wake up from. I can't ever remember feeling so relaxed, so hopeful, so happy. I thought… I thought I just didn't get to feel those things."

He couldn't resist anymore, had barely been holding himself back as it was. He reached out slowly, a touch tentatively, and laid his hand on Barling's arm. Just a brief touch, not much, but one that he trusted to convey the full depth of his feeling towards this spiky man who - against all odds - kept trusting him with the pieces of his heart.

It worked, as it always had between them when they both just gave it a chance. Barling made a soft noise, and then swayed closer to him. A warm brush, an intimate touch that obviously took strength from the contact between them.

"You do get to feel those things," he said, and was unsurprised to find that his own voice had gone decidedly breathless. How could it not, when Barling was so close to him and so willing to be so? "You get to feel anything you want, and deserve to feel anything you want. You deserve absolutely everything, the whole world served up to you on a platter."

He was pretty sure that he'd already made his emotions on the subject clear, but Barling blinked and gasped and gave a tremulous smile at such a raw confession. "Hugo."

And, for the second time in a day, he had the unique pleasure of having Barling in his arms. The man initiated it this time, just stepped forward and wrapped his arms warmly around his waist and held on as tightly as he could.

It was intoxicating, to have Barling willingly melting in his arms. He froze for a moment, unsure quite how to process all the intense joy flooding through him, and then instinct took over and he hugged Barling back just as tightly. It was amazing, to have the man's head tucked under his chin and the man's body against his and the man melting against him like nothing else could compare.

"That's why a part of me doesn't really want to leave," Barling confessed against his chest, and drew back just a little so he could see that pensive expression back on his face. " _This_ is. We're fine here, we can work it out here, but what happens when we leave this place? What if I withdraw again? What if you find somebody better? What if… What if. How can we possibly work, when the whole world is against us?"

"First of all, there is nobody better than you, " he said sternly, raising the ghost of a smile from Barling. "Second of all… I know exactly what you're worried about."

"You do?"

"Of course I do," he said, and unwound his arms from around Barling's body to cup his face intimately. "I'm worried that _you'll_ find somebody better out there, I'm worried that I'll become a nervous wreck every time you're threatened and drive us apart. I'm worried that the world will destroy us completely and dance in the ashes, as it has with so many things I've lo- cared for before. "

Barling obviously didn't miss his slip of the tongue. His lips parted just slightly, his eyes were wide and so incredibly hopeful that he felt like he could fly under their awestruck gaze.

"But what if we don't dwell on it?" He whispered into the intimate silence between them, tentatively allowing his fingers to slide up until they could tangle in Barling's hair. "Just for now. What if we let the future be the future, let it come to us at its own pace, and enjoy the happy dream we have now?"

Barling arched an eyebrow, but looked more decidedly tempted than he'd ever seen him. "Drop all of our responsibilities for a brief taste of joy?"

"Just while we're here," he said, feeling more hopeful than he ever had before and half choking on the sheer intensity of it. "Just while we have each other with nothing else outside. And we can, we will, work out the rest later. After we've cared for each other just a little more."

There was a long moment of silence, the man watching him closely throughout.

"Oh," Barling said eventually, his voice ever so soft. "Hugo."

This time he was expecting Barling to rock up a little on his toes and slot their mouths carefully together, but that didn't make the brush of his lips any less special.

\--

He'd kissed Barling a few times now, many more times than he'd expected at the beginning of this period, but it was still a revelation every single time. The feeling of Barling's mouth, Barling's arms wrapped around his neck, Barling's body pressed so trustingly against his… It all added up to something incredibly special, something precious that he didn't know why he'd been handed but was determined to cherish nonetheless.

They kissed for a long time by the window, though he found himself entirely unable to measure time because he was so absorbed. Barling kissed with an intensity that he never would've expected from the man before their initial coupling, pressed right up against him and licked into his mouth as if he was determined to savour every single bit. He found himself ceding to Barling's desires eagerly, almost being dragged along for the ride as he wrapped his arms around Barling's waist and surrendered to this wildfire thing between them.

Until, eventually but also after no time at all, things started to get a little more heated. Barling's hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, Barling's tongue getting a touch more insistent, Barling rocking up against him as he obviously sought the sweetest of friction.

He was the one to walk Barling backwards this time, thrilled when the man went absolutely willingly. He pressed Barling right across the room, kissing him all the while, until the backs of the man's thighs hit the table. And then he lifted Barling up onto it, knowing full well that it could bear a man's weight.

Barling made a mildly startled noise at that, and pulled back panting from the kiss. They blinked at each other from close up, still pressed together so closely that it was impossible to deny that they were mutually interested.

"On the table where we eat?" Barling asked eventually, his voice interestingly ragged. They'd never talked halfway through either time before, he suddenly found a passionate desire to hear Barling sound kiss-ragged all the time. "Really?"

"You're right," he said innocently, and made to pull away without actually taking a single step back from the perfect circle of Barling's arms. "We should stop right now, go play a rousing game of chess or something instead."

He was gratified when Barling made a sharp noise of protest, and automatically grabbed at him. They stared at each other from close up for a long few moments, measuring.

"I suppose," Barling said eventually, begrudgingly, and went so far as to hook his ankles around the back of his thighs to drag him closer. "We can wipe it down afterwards. Don't go _anywhere_. "

There were a thousand things he could've said in response to that order, from fond mockery to heartfelt confessions that he would never willingly leave Barling's side, but he had always been more a man of action than words and he chose to act on that now. He leaned in properly again, sealed their lips back together and practically melted as Barling gave a soft sigh against his mouth.

They made out on the table for a long few moments, even more in depth than their embrace by the window. Barling's tongue was in his mouth from the beginning this time, his hands wound deeply in his hair and his entire body rocking willingly up against him. For his part he was hardly less enthusiastic, pinning Barling to the table with his body and stealing every single one of his moans from his tongue and holding him so tightly that they could never possibly be torn apart.

He was already hard, and from the quick collisions of their hips he could tell - as if Barling's desperate gasps hadn't been indication enough - that the other man was in an equally intense state. He wanted more, and with Barling so very willing against him he didn't see why he shouldn't reach for it.

He drew back a little, gratified by the sharp noise of protest Barling made at the loss of his weight, and drew his tunic off over his head. It took a touch more fumbling to draw his shirt up, as it was interlaced with his braies, but he was desperate and he soon had a hold on that too. It wasn't long before he was entirely bare chested in front of Barling.

Barling's noises of protest, another show of how gloriously eager he was, had faded away as the man had seen what he was doing. Now Barling watched him hungrily, with an avidity he'd only seen aimed at dusty old scrolls before. It was a reminder that while they'd touched each other widely that first sleepy time, they hadn't actually seen that much of each other. The thought urged him to shuck more of his clothes. He practically kicked off his shoes, hastily removed the double stockings that he'd put on for warmth, fumbled at the laces of his braies and then managed to yank them off himself without much delicacy.

And then he was naked. Entirely bare before Barling.

Barling outright groaned as his body was revealed. The man then blushed immediately afterwards, still so unused to being allowed to voice his desires, but mercifully didn't look away. Instead he reached out with a tentative hand, pressed it to the centre of his chest as if trying to hold the moment in his memory.

He was already aflame, he felt like he was constantly aflame around Barling lately, but Barling's tentative touch only stoked the fire higher. He yanked the man against him again, Barling going willingly, and kissed him once more. They made out like that desperately, his entirely naked body against Barling's still entirely clothed one.

And eventually, tentative himself, he reached ever so slowly for the lacings of Barling's robe. "Can I…?"

"Oh," Barling said against his mouth, obviously startled, and pulled back a little with an expression so conflicted that his heart bled a little at the sight. He still so obviously wasn’t used to being wanted, to being desired like a wildfire in the blood. "I'm not really sure why you'd want to."

"To see you," he said, quite simply and honestly. And, when Barling only continued to hesitate, leaned slowly back in and nuzzled up against the man's ear. "Aelred, please."

"Oh, it was a mistake allowing you to say that," Barling murmured breathlessly, and surged back against him even bolder than before. It was but a moment before he had a tongue back in his mouth, hands burrowing into his hair and holding on tight.

Barling didn't protest when he brought his hands back to the fastenings of his robe. The man gave a heavy sigh against his mouth, but then actually rocked back a little to give him more access. He undid the fastenings quickly, eagerly, and then tugged and unfurled until he could pull the garment off Barling entirely. The man's undergarments went quickly in the same direction.

He had been thinking about Barling naked for a while now, even if most of the thinking had been on a barely conscious level, and the actual sight definitely lived up to his imaginings. Barling was slim, and pale, and unfortunately bony in parts. He had very little hair on his chest, far less than he had, but a modest trail down his stomach. His nipples were a shade of light brown, and already peaked. His cock was already hard, and looked almost painful between his thighs.

He looked up from his perusal, slightly awed, and found Barling taking him in in much the same way. That expression of naked hunger was back on the man's face, as if he'd never really learned to _want_ before and was now determined to make up for lost time. Their eyes met for a long moment, as they caught each other, and then they both smiled at once. He couldn't read minds, as much as he would've loved a glimpse at Barling's thoughts sometimes, but he got the impression that both of them were perfectly happy in that moment. As if something had slotted into place, something that should've been certain all along.

All restraints were off now, by mutual consent. They surged against each other almost clumsily, eager for the feeling of flesh against flesh. He braced his arms either side of Barling and practically pinned the other man to the table, eager to take all that he was given. Their cocks bumped together briefly, almost accidentally, and he had to bite back an oath at the sensation.

Barling seemed equally enthusiastic, equally undone by this passion that had suddenly flared between them. The man actively bucked against him when their cocks brushed, driving them even closer together. He hooked his ankles behind his legs again, and shuddered, and gave himself entirely to their coupling. He moaned almost constantly, soft and almost embarrassed at first but soon building to a glorious crescendo.

Together they managed to buck their way into something resembling a rhythm, a smooth backwards and forwards grind that they worked together to achieve. It didn't really surprise him, that they could get into it so quickly and so pleasurably, they had always worked well together even when they’d claimed to hate each other. He couldn't help but feel a certain wonder at that, as he ground ceaselessly into the hollow of Barling's hip.

Barling seemed equally unsurprised. Barling, for that matter, seemed equally pleased and equally wondering. The man kept moaning, kept clutching on to him, kept eagerly meeting his thrusts with desperate rolls of his own. Barling was clearly remembering just how fun it was to lose himself to pleasure, and thoroughly enjoy every single moment of it.

Suddenly, with Barling so obviously eager against him, he wanted more. Wanted to discover every single inch of Barling, figure out the places that made him go absolutely wild. He settled for drawing back just slightly, again pleased by Barling's protesting whimper, and trailing his mouth down the other man's chest. He wrapped his mouth around one still peaked nipple, and traced his tongue around it lightly.

Barling bucked up against him again, significantly harder this time, and made a noise more undone than he'd ever thought to hear from him. It was as if he’d had never had his nipples touched before, which was depressingly plausible now he thought about it. Barling fell apart entirely under the onslaught of his tongue, seeming gratifyingly even more undone than before.

Their grinding was definitely getting more intense now, and becoming far less deliberate and precise as they both fell apart entirely. He trailed his tongue around Barling's nipple for a little while more, determined to give the man as much pleasure as possible, and then fell off when his own pleasure got too much. He settled for scattering kisses over every part of Barling he could reach instead, layering them thoroughly over his upper chest and collarbone and neck.

Barling let out a whimpering moan, sounding utterly lost, and yanked him back up into a mouth to mouth kiss. Their tongues tangled together again instantly, and they lost themselves in making out again. It was early days, but he didn't think that he was ever going to stop being obsessed with Barling's mouth.

Barling obviously realised this, hardly a surprise considering how smart he was, and had decided to use it as a distraction accordingly. The man slid a hand between their bodies, careful and probing, and didn't stop until he had it wrapped firmly and carefully around both their cocks.

It was his turn to react now, his turn to let out a moan so explosive that his head reeled in the aftermath of it. He drew back just slightly, stared down between them in a dazed way at Barling's hand moving so surely on the both of them at once. It was such an intense sensation, the joint feelings of Barling's hand and Barling's cock almost enough to drive him to madness.

Barling laughed, a rusty but undeniably pleased sound, and he gave up watching that holy sight to surge back into the man instead. They kissed again, even more intensely this time and with both of them utterly lost. All they could do was clutch on to each other, abandon themselves to this wildfire between them like nothing else mattered and nothing else ever would.

Their rhythm was falling apart now, becoming steadily more desperate and rough, but neither of them really cared. They ground against each other desperately, passionately, wonderingly. They allowed all pretences to be ripped away, and revelled in just being themselves. In the slide of body against body, hard nipples against rough chest, throbbing cock against throbbing cock. They were both utterly undone, and both proud of it.

His orgasm didn't come as a surprise. In fact, the only shock was that he hadn't come sooner. He gasped and spent himself into Barling's hand, with several quick jerks of his hips that left him feeling emptied out. There was a sense of peace afterwards, a decided sense of rightness that he sleepily revelled in.

Barling cried out, at the feeling of come coating his cock and fingers, but seemed a little further behind. The man panted and moaned, clung to him with desperate fingers as he trembled. He obviously needed just a little extra help to tumble over the edge.

Luckily, he was beyond happy to provide it. He allowed himself a few more shattered gasps to recover himself, and then snaked a hand down between them to bat away Barling and take a firm grip of the other man's cock. He ran a thumb over the head, and the man gasped. He pumped his hand down Barling's length, and the man groaned. He dipped right down until he could touch Barling's balls, and the man cried out ever so desperately…

He leaned in until his lips were touching Barling's ear, and whispered. "Aelred."

And Barling came, with a breathy wail that he wanted to hear for every single day of the rest of his life.

\--

The next morning, initially, was a rather worrying repeat of the first time they’d slept - as in, actually had sex - together. He woke up to a sense of warmth and comfort and peace, and immediately rolled over to see Barling staring at him with incredibly wide and startled eyes.

At some point last night, both of them sated and drowsy and not a little cold given that they’d just discarded all of their clothes in the pursuit of pleasure, they’d made the mutual decision to move to the bed. They hadn’t done much more, save sleepy embraces and intimate kisses that had made Barling blush visibly even in the dark, but they had been comfortably close as they’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t felt so happy since he’d lost Rosamund, hadn’t drifted off so easily since the first time he’d held Barling in his arms.

But that had been Saturday night, and today was Sunday morning. And now Barling was staring at him with wide eyes again, looking faintly terrified and uncertain. “I-”

“It’s alright,” he said soothingly, and shifted a tiny bit closer. Not taking Barling into his arms just yet, but lingering close enough that it was quite clearly an option any time that Barling chose. “We’re alright. You’re not going to get immediately dragged to hell, just for waking up next to me.”

“Not immediately, but quite possibly some day,” Barling retorted, but his tone lacked venom. Instead there was a painful sort of hope in his eyes, as he peered across at him. “And you might well get dragged along with me, because of me. Waking up naked with a man on the Sabbath…”

“After a night of pleasing each other,” he reminded the man, narrowly resisting the urge to reach out and caress Barling’s face.

“Well…” Barling bit his lip.

“Doesn’t God want us to be happy?” He pressed, knowing that he was waltzing right up to the line of what was acceptable and also knowing that he had to chance it. Barling appreciated daring, as much as he pretended that he didn’t, and Barling deserved somebody to fight for him. “Doesn’t God want us to take joy in his creation, and joy in the other beings that he populated creation with? If anything, what we did together last night was glorifying Him.”

“Hugo!” For a moment he thought he had crossed that hazy line, and that Barling would push him immediately out of the bed. But then Barling sighed softly, and bit his lip again “...That is an extreme simplification of the actual doctrine.”

“I never claimed to be a scholar.” Or even particularly religious, but that wasn’t exactly a subject to get into at this tentative point. “I can only say what’s in my heart. And what’s in my heart is, quite honestly, that what we did last night wasn’t a sin at all. How could it be, when it was so wonderful for both of us?”

Barling looked conflicted, like he wasn’t quite sure whether to scold him or melt into his side or even leave the bed entirely. The man just kept his head on the pillow and stared at him, obviously thinking things through with an intensity that was again reminiscent of the beginning of their stay.

“Did I please you?” He asked, slightly desperate and trying his very best not to be embarrassed about it.

“Yes,” Barling said, immediately, and then blushed a little at the speed of his answer.

The speed was an encouraging sign, the blush slightly less so but still not exactly negative. He pressed on, feeling like he had little other option but to push. “Does the memory of it make you happy even now?”

There was a long moment of silence, one so stretched out that he genuinely didn’t think that Barling was going to answer this time. And then the man sighed, and gave in so sweetly that his heart throbbed in his chest at the sight “... _Yes_.”

“Then what is the point in torturing yourself over something that we both wanted?” He asked, feeling breathless and knowing exactly why. Everything hung in the balance, and for the first time in years he cared desperately for the outcome. “Maybe it’s not actually a sin, maybe it’s just two people finding pleasure and joy in each other. And forgive me for saying, but I think that any loving God would be thrilled to see such an interpretation of His word.”

Barling bit his lip for another long moment, still thinking. And then let out another oh so heavy sigh. “I thought that once before, when I was first in love with Richard.”

Oh, _oh_. He hadn’t quite been expecting the sudden pain in his chest, but he supposed that it made sense. He took in a deep breath, made to roll a little away and put some obviously much needed difference between them. “Sorry, I meant-”

“I thought I was wrong, absolutely and horrifically wrong, but then I met you and I realized that the only thing I was wrong about was the person,” Barling continued, perfectly matter of fact, and reached out for him. Ran his fingers gently over his chest, and raised fire in his wake. “You are far more worthy of my affection, far more able to redeem any of my actual sins, than Richard ever was.”

He stared at the man for a moment, utterly taken aback.

Barling arched an eyebrow, starting to look amused even though his eyes remained wide, and he gave in to the inevitable. Rolled across the bed, gathered Barling’s warm naked body into his arms and started layering desperate kisses across his face. The intense relief made him feel giddy in its aftermath, and it wasn’t the only thing. To think that Barling actually cared for him, was actually willing to listen to him, was actually laying his fear aside just to be in his arms for a few moments more…

“We still have to pray at some point today, though,” Barling said eventually, striving for sternness but with a wobble that was suspiciously close to laughter in his voice.

“At some point,” he said gleefully, also laughing, and laid another kiss right on the tip of Barling’s nose.

\--

They did get up eventually on that day. To eat, and then pray, and then stoke the fire and then pray some more, and then tend the horses and then pray yet again. All day he half expected Barling to get tense and stressed, but he didn't. If anything he got more and more mellow, obviously finding something in the act of prayer that he'd never quite been able to grasp.

At the end of the day they both went happily back to bed. Not to do anything physical, not this time, but more just to hold each other and revel in being so very close. He fell asleep with Barling's mouth on his, Barling's limbs entwined with his own and a sense of happiness so profound in his chest that it couldn't be denied.

And then, to his extreme surprise and intense glee, when they awoke the next morning it didn't take that much work to convince Barling to leave off fretting for just a day and remain warm in bed with him instead.

"You're so much hairier than me," Barling mused, tangling his fingers in his chest hair and studying it like it was some kind of incredibly fascinating curiosity. "A part of me almost thinks that I should call it obscene."

"You mind it?" He asked worriedly, propping himself up on his elbows. He had never known much vanity regarding his body before, had always absently regarded it as perfectly fit for purpose, but he found himself wondering how much effort it would take to shave now. Only to please Barling, which should’ve felt absolutely insane but instead only seemed natural.

"No. No, I definitely don't mind it." Barling blushed a little, at being pressed on the point, but mercifully didn't move away or even remove his fingers. He just kept caressing him, with an intimate care that took his breath away. "It's obscene in a good way, if that makes sense? I… I like how it feels against me."

"When I'm on top of you, you mean?" He teased, and had the pleasure of seeing Barling's cheeks go even more red. Lord, he was going to revel in the beauty of that sight for years. "I'm glad you like it. I rather like the feel of you against me too, if I'm being honest."

"You do?" Barling blinked up at him, seeming more sceptical than charmed. Which he supposed was to be expected, really. He already knew that his seduction of Barling would have to be made in slow and careful steps, a gentle build instead of a heady rush. "I'm not sure why. I'm rather unimpressive, compared to you."

"You're really not," he hurried to reassure Barling, lifting a hand up until he could play with the strands of the man's tonsure. "I like feeling all of your body against me, not muffled by the hair. And I _love_ feeling you fall apart against me, as you get overwhelmed by sensation."

"Oh." Barling blinked, now bright red. The sight was absolutely and entirely adorable. "That's… Well."

"I love seeing you, too," he said cheerfully, deciding to push his luck in hope of receiving more charming blushes from Barling's direction. He wanted to record those blushes somehow, to hang them in a frame on the wall and preserve just how pretty Barling looked.

He received an unimpressed look instead, but that was alright too. Barling looked attractive even when he was being spiky. "Really, Hugo!"

"I mean it!" He defended, actually somewhat offended on Barling's behalf. He didn't know when he'd started finding Barling attractive, it had rather snuck up on him, but now it was a fact as absolute as the sun in the sky. "I love seeing you naked. How soft you are, how responsive you are, the way that you blush so prettily all over. I mean, you're a little skinny but that's hardly…"

“Excuse me,” Barling interrupted, but his unimpressed expression had been replaced by a blank one that was fighting not to be amused. “Did you just say that you think I’m a little skinny?”

“Perhaps,” he said innocently, and received a probably justified roll of the eyes for his attempt at being casual. “I just wish that you’d take care of yourself a little more, you know. Put on a little weight, stop looking quite so bony. You deserve all the best things, after all, I just wish that you’d allow yourself to have them.”

“Hm,” Barling said neutrally, still with that carefully blank expression - the one quite obviously twitching with amusement around the edges - fixed upon his face. “Just how long have you been watching me, Hugo?”

“A while,” he said, again mock innocently.

“And how long have you been wanting to take care of me, like a mother hen wanting to fuss after her eggs?” Barling continued, arching a slow eyebrow that almost had him on the edge of giggling.

“Also a while,” he said, and attempted to trace his fingers distractingly along Barling’s side until the man rolled his eyes and gently swatted him away. “Since what happened at the monastery, if not slightly before that.”

“I haven’t thought that I deserved to be taken care of for years, not after all that happened in Paris,” Barling said musingly, maintained that blank expression for a long and slightly worrying second more… And then lapsed back into the bed again, with a small smile that meant more than words could ever say. “I guess that’s another thing that I was wrong about. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to take a little more care. For your sake and your sake alone, you do understand.”

“Keep up your strength, and all that,” he said with a cheery leer, and couldn’t hold back a full fledged laugh as Barling made a mild noise of outrage and swatted him properly. “I could even cook for you a little, if you wanted.”

“You know how to cook?” Barling asked, still looking a little disgruntled and thus using what he felt was an entirely unwarranted amount of scepticism.

“Of course I know how to cook!” He said defensively, and mock frowned at Barling until the man raised another one of those pointed eyebrows and he was forced to smile again. “I thought I was fairly good at it all things considered. Either way, I promise to only burn half of it.”

Barling looked briefly amused at that. And, for once, didn’t bother to wipe any trace of positive emotion from his face entirely. “I’m discovering new things about you every day.”

“Good things?” He asked, a slightly tentative note creeping into his voice alongside the tease.

“Really, Hugo, there’s no need to dig for compliments,” Barling said, the mildest note of reprove in his voice, but did gently roll in until he could press their mouths ever so sweetly together again.

They made out like that happily for a long few moments. The world outside the two of them had already been a passing concern at best, but the meeting of their lips erased it all entirely. There was only the way that Barling sighed into his mouth, the way that Barling tangled oh so eager hands into his hair, the way that Barling pressed their bodies together so sweetly like he too wanted to melt into one.

“Your nipples are a different colour too,” Barling said thoughtfully in one of their breaks from kissing, when he had finally unwound one hand from his hair in favour of sliding it curiously down his body instead.

“Yes,” he said, admittedly a touch breathless. It was hard not to be, with the man he had wanted for so very long touching him in such an intimate way.

“They’re this lovely shade of pink, about the same shade as your mouth, while mine are just brown.” Barling drew back enough that he could get a proper look at his face, took one look at his undoubtedly dazed expression and gave a smile so smug that he wanted to worship it as a holy work of art. “I guess they must vary amongst men.”

“I guess so,” he said, his voice going slightly strangled as Barling ran a thoughtful fingernail over the peak of one. “I can’t really say that I’ve seen any other men’s nipples in much detail.”

“Richard’s nipples were…” Barling said, in a musing tone. And then stopped dead, sent him a look of such unalloyed delight that he actually felt his heart give a happy pound in his chest at the wonderfully unusual sight. It was so rare for Barling to be truly happy, and so very special. “Hugo, did you just _growl_ at me for saying that?”

“No,” he said hastily, taking refuge in the safety of a lie. He settled back against the pillows comfortably, attempted to look as innocent as possible yet again.

But Barling didn’t look particularly put out at the possibility. Instead he looked faintly amused, and also… Gleeful. Like he’d just been handed an extra special present, one that he’d never expected to get in a thousand years. “Are you jealous?”

He took one look at the expression on Barling’s face. He considered for a long moment. And then, half tentatively, he decided to be honest. “Maybe. Just a little.”

“I’ve never had anybody be jealous on my behalf before,” Barling said, in a tone of dawning wonder. Yet again he was struck by how few good things Barling had been given over the years. His expression was almost awed, like he couldn’t quite believe that anybody would care quite so much about him even with the evidence staring him squarely in the face. “You’re honestly jealous of Richard?”

He didn’t want to be a dick, he had seen intensely possessive men before and had always felt what he felt was an entirely warranted level of scorn towards them, and so he hesitated for a long moment before replying. “It’s not that I don’t want you to talk about him, or think about him or anything like that. I’m genuinely fine with all of your past, I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I wasn’t, it’s just…”

“You’d prefer me not to do it while we’re naked,” Barling said understandingly, that pleased little smile still evident on his face.

“No,” he admitted, and felt faintly ridiculous for doing so. He swore that he’d never had a jealous bone in his body before, but apparently Barling brought out a whole new side to him. “Not when I’m actively trying to show you how much better you deserve. I know you loved him, but he was a dick and he never deserved the trust you gave him. I know it’s not easy to just stop thinking about stuff, far better than most, but… He’s not worthy of you dwelling on him, not for so long and so intensely.”

“I did love him. As in past tense: did instead of do, loved instead of love.” Barling reached out again, gently but not tentatively, and wound their fingers together. He hadn’t held hands since Rosamund, since he’d been a feckless boy who didn’t know the ways of the world, and the simple act made him feel safer than he had in years. “I used to think about him all the time, used to dwell on him until tears were running down my face, but I haven’t done so properly in years. Not since I met you. Believe me, Hugo, you genuinely don’t have to worry about him at all.”

“I’m not,” he lied again, still desperately not wanting to appear like a dick. A stubborn arsehole, utterly unworthy of Barling’s regard.

“You are, but that’s perfectly alright. I’m willing to keep repeating that you have nothing to worry about until you believe it. You’re better than him in every single way, after all.” Barling paused for a long moment, and then a faintly wicked and definitely daring light entered his eyes. “Especially in bed.”

He couldn’t help himself. He burst out into peals of laughter, uncontrolled and absolutely joyous at the sound of Barling defending him in such a way. Barling, for his part, blushed but looked decidedly pleased. Laid back down besides him, comfortably watching him with his pointy chin propped against his shoulder, and waited until he calmed down until the point where words were potentially an option again.

Not that he took advantage of that option, even when he was gifted it. The moment he regained his breath, he leaned in and kissed Barling again. They spent several long moments, or minutes or maybe even hours, like that - obsessed with each other’s mouths, and the slide of flesh against flesh, and the feeling of happiness that couldn’t help but blossom when they were alone together.

“Your, um, intimate area is different to mine too,” Barling said eventually, when they’d settled back to sleepy and content cuddling, and slid a curious hand down his body again. He didn’t stop at his chest this time, though, merely kept sliding his fingers down until they could tangle in the hair just above his cock.

“Yeah,” he said, dazed yet again, and broke from where he was nuzzling at Barling’s temple to glance down their twined together bodies. “My cock is a little slimmer than yours, I guess, and a bit longer.”

“A bit longer…” Barling snorted self depreciatingly, and rolled his eyes. For once, he didn’t find himself biting back a smile at the sight of such spikiness because the spikiness was aimed at Barling and Barling alone and that simply wouldn’t do. “Try a lot longer, Hugo. Yours is long, almost elegant, even when you aren’t aroused. Mine is just this shrivelled thing most of the time, and doesn’t seem to grow that much even when I do become excited.”

“That’s not fair,” he said sternly, and didn’t even pay that much attention to Barling’s surprised blink. He still wasn’t used to being defended as he deserved. That was fine, he would just have to defend the man every single day of his life until he learned quite how wonderful he was. “Your cock is a perfectly normal length, whether you’re hard or not. You’re perfect just the way you are, Aelred.”

Barling studied him for a long second, seeming uncertain, and then tried for a resigned sigh. It worked nowhere near as well as the man would’ve hoped. “Unfortunately, I suspect that you’re rather biased.”

“Perhaps I am, but what’s wrong with being a little biased? You deserve all the positive bias in the world. If you would tolerate me following you around all day telling you how great you are, I would do it in a heartbeat.” He rolled over on his side, which had the pleasant side effect of jolting Barling’s hand a little lower, and smiled right into the man’s incredulous blush. “Besides, length and girth don’t really matter. It’s the ability to bring pleasure which is the most important thing, and I’m pleased to say that your cock is very good at doing that.”

“I guess,” Barling said mock reluctantly, but then smiled a little at the expression doubtlessly on his face. He was increasingly getting the impression that they were utterly gone for each other, and was hardly opposed to this idea. “Your, uh, intimate area is very good at bringing me pleasure too. Just for the record.”

He grinned, at both Barling’s words and Barling’s blush, and leaned in to kiss the man again. There was a feeling of joy in his chest, blossoming and warm and utterly impossible to deny. When they broke for air again, he couldn’t help but lean in and press his lips teasingly against the shell of Barling’s ear. “On that subject… You’re the best I’ve ever had too.”

“Don’t lie!” Barling practically squawked, and batted him back with a fierce blush and a look of mild offence that could quickly grow into full on anger if not managed exactly right. “I know that you’ve slept with a fair few, Stanton. Surely a great deal of them were considerably better than me.”

“I have,” he said calmly. Luckily, for possibly the first time, knowing exactly how to handle Barling in a situation like this. “But I never really cared for any of them, not since Rosamund, while I care an awful lot for you and everything that you do. And that, I’m not surprised to find, makes all the difference.”

Barling blinked, hard, at the source of all his rage being taken so neatly away. He stared at him for a long moment in silence, and then opened his mouth on a soft exhale. “Oh.”

He smiled at Barling, utterly besotted. Finally took mercy on the man, who looked a little like he’d just been struck by lightning, and leaned in to mouth teasingly at his ear again. “Want to compare cock sizes from close up,? Just for a more thorough comparison, you understand.”

He felt Barling swallow against him for a moment. And then the man drew back, just to give him an equally lovestruck smile and lace the fingers of his free hand into his hair again. “Yes, please. That sounds absolutely wonderful.”

He laughed, almost out of his head with joy, and bore Barling willingly back to the bed once more.

\--

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Barling cared for him, a lot more than he ever expected, but even with all that care and affection he was only able to convince Barling into one day of being lazy in bed. The next day the man is right back on it, urging him up and forcing him to do things around the cabin even though there’s nobody to see besides the two of them.

He would mind more, he genuinely would, except that being up and about evidently doesn’t mean an end of Barling being affectionate with him. All through the day there are little touches, soft intimacies that make his heart pound a little faster in his chest every single time. There are kisses against his cheek while he’s proving a point and making breakfast, arms wrapped briefly around his core when he’s surveying the horses, noses nuzzled together when he’s peering out at the snow and trying to estimate if the whirl of it is even a little bit slower.

It’s nice. More than nice, it’s a piece in his life that he never really knew that he was missing.

And at the end of the day, after Barling has gotten to making dinner before he could but has done so with a fond glance that averted any hurt feelings before they even began, there’s Barling sitting across from him and lacing their fingers deliberately together. “So.”

He swallows the last of his cured meat. Spares a brief thought for how many other things he’s going to eat when they get out of this isolated cabin, and then turns his attention back to Barling. “So?”

“I was wondering if we could talk about what you said yesterday,” Barling says casually. Genuinely casually too, judging by the way his thumb is sweeping in an unhurried way across his knuckles. Even a week ago he would’ve never expected such an intimate caress, and he finds his heart beating faster at even that gentle brush of flesh against flesh.

“I said a lot of things yesterday, Aelred. Not that I can remember many of them, considering how thoroughly you kept distracting me.” He thinks for a long moment, finds himself grinning as he thinks of the perfect way to bring that endearing colour to Barling’s cheeks again. “Unless you want to talk about relative size-”

“Not right now, no,” Barling says sternly, blushing on cue. He really is an incredibly attractive man, he must’ve been an arrant fool to take so very long to notice it. “I actually want to talk about that part where you said that you’d never really paid much attention to other men’s nipples before.”

“I want to note that I find it hilarious that you can say the word nipple, albeit while turning bright red, but you still can’t say the word cock.” He sits back a little in his chair, making carefully sure not to tug his hand away from Barling’s, and considers the point for a moment. Soon comes up with a hazy memory, one that was quickly wiped away by the feeling of Barling’s mouth on his. “Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

“I just wondered if it was true,” Barling says, sending him a brief glare for the tease. Which is perfectly alright, he finds himself inordinately fond of Barling’s glares. “If you really hadn’t ever, ah, slept with a man before me.”

He frowns for a moment thoughtfully, but still doesn’t let go of Barling’s hand. “You know it is, I’m not really sure that I ever properly looked at a man before you.”

“So you’re not generally attracted to men,” Barling continues, his voice rising in pitch just that slightest bit in the way that means his genuine casualness has now turned firmly into fake casualness. “Then?”

“I don’t-” He frowns again, thinks for a long second with Barling’s eyes still on him in a slightly concerned way. He gets the sense that his answer to this is important, as all answers seem to be with Barling, and he finds that he wants to rise properly to the occasion. “I’m not sure that I’d say that, I think it’s more a matter of me spending several years very carefully not thinking about it.”

It’s Barling’s turn to frown this time. Which could be interpreted as worrying, but at least he’s no longer putting up a front. “You thought a lot about your attraction to women, though.”

“Not really.” He shrugs a little, faintly uncomfortable at this conversation but knowing very well that Barling deserves the truth. “After Rosamund died I think I buried myself in women to try and forget my pain. I’m not sure that I actively wanted any of them, I’d just go to bed with whoever would have me for that night. Women just happened to be easier, more socially acceptable, to approach in that way.”

Barling blinked at him for a second, startled. And then all of his tension melted away, and he actually leant across the table to interlace their free hands too. “So…”

“You are the first person that I’ve actively wanted, that I’ve actively thought about wanting, since Rosamund died,” he said, and offered Barling a small smile. It still hurt, but the gentle touch of the man’s hand was most certainly helping. “And, to be honest, the only person other than Rosamund who I’ve actively wanted in all my life. You should probably feel proud.”

“I do, yes,” Barling said softly, still holding on to him tightly “...Sorry that you had to experience that, but thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for listening,” he said, and felt his smile grow into something significantly more genuine.

“You’re only the second person I’ve ever genuinely wanted too,” Barling said eventually, after a long and mellow silence in which they smiled at each other like fools. “And only the second man that I’ve slept with, after… Are you genuinely going to start growling every single time I come close to mentioning his name?”

“Sorry,” he murmured, feeling himself go red for once.

“Don’t be, it’s actually rather… Well, adorable.” Barling bit his lip for a moment, as if biting back a laugh, and then drew himself up with a certain amount of dignity and carried on. “I only mention it to point out that we seem to have similar levels of experience, for once.”

“I guess that’s true,” he said slowly, and then couldn’t hold back a smile at the look of tentative pleasure on Barling’s face at the revelation. “If anything, you have a little more than me. Considering that you’ve slept with a grand total of two men, while I’ve only slept with you.”

“What a brand new and somewhat thrilling experience,” Barling said wryly, and then allowed himself a genuine smile as he couldn’t hold back from bursting out laughing. “I genuinely mean it, though. It feels nice, to head into this brand new experience hand in hand with you.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, when he’d calmed just a little, and favoured Barling with a smile that was probably far too soppy but entirely heartfelt. “Although I will point out that I would head absolutely anywhere with you, brand new experience or not, and probably enjoy myself thoroughly in the process.”

“Oh, Hugo,” Barling murmured, obviously intending to sound slightly scolding but instead sounding utterly and absolutely charmed.

\--

The next morning, to his mild horror, things finally started to clear. It seemed cruel that real life would try to drag them back practically the moment they had achieved a breakthrough, but there it was. It was still cold and dark and there was still snow, but it eddied leisurely now instead of downright blowing and there was even the suggestion of light on the horizon.

He should’ve been thrilled, the food wouldn’t last forever and he really did like most of civilisation while he was actually in it, but instead it really did just feel cruel. He didn’t want to go back to real life, the world of polite pretence and never really saying what he wanted to say. A large part of him wanted to remain here forever, holding Barling’s hand and kissing Barling’s face and tumbling Barling into bed whenever they chose.

Barling also seemed hardly pleased at the change, though it took him a while to notice absorbed in his own misery as he was. The man was quiet, withdrawn. He didn’t smile even once, although that expression had started to become more and more common over the past few days, and his eyes strayed to the window almost constantly. A few times he caught an expression of heart-rending misery on the man’s face, before he carefully tucked it away and returned to whatever he was doing.

Luckily, they were both a little beyond the point of allowing each other to take refuge in polite denial.

He approached Barling while he was standing at the window, staring out into the increasingly mild storm. Hesitated for only a moment, and then stepped all the way in and wound his arms around Barling’s waist. He had to bend his knees a little to slot his chin on the man’s shoulder, but he considered the inconvenience entirely worth it.

Barling stiffened against him for a moment, confirming the direction of his thoughts, and then sighed and melted back into him. He would’ve never thought the man so responsive before they started all of this, but now he knew that the knowledge would never leave his head. “Hello, Hugo.”

“Hello, Aelred,” he murmured softly into the man’s ear, and took a definite amount of pleasure in how Barling gave a little shudder against him before he mastered himself. “What do you think of the weather?”

“I have no strong opinions on the weather,” Barling said, remarkably evenly all things considered. “Given that it is a natural phenomenon that I have no possible control over. I might as well have an opinion on… On the nature of cows, or why birds seem to always fly south for the winter.”

He smiled a little at Barling’s weak attempt at diversion. Turned his own head sideways, and nuzzled a kiss against the man’s cheek. “Somehow I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful.”

“That’s not exactly your place to point out,” Barling said, sharper than he’d heard him since before all this had happened. But in the next moment, before his heart could do more than pound uncomfortably in his chest, the man was turning around fully and looping his arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t actually mean to snap at you. I’m just… A little tense at the moment.”

“I understand,” he said softly, keeping his arms around Barling’s waist. He was perfectly happy to hold the man, even if it was just for now.

“I suppose you’re the only one that can,” Barling said softly, studying his face for a long moment. And then he glanced back at the window, that old expression of melancholy crossing his face yet again. “I think that the weather seems to be settling down. It’s still snowing, but unless there’s a freak resumption I think it should probably stop within a day or two.”

“I agree,” he said, tentatively waiting his moment to press the point that that wasn’t entirely what he wanted from Barling either. “I can’t see it being any longer than that.”

“Which also means that we’ll probably be able to leave this place, within a day or two,” Barling continued, his voice growing quiet and more tentative as he went on. The man was facing him now, so he could see the growing misery in his eyes. “Which…”

“Yes,” he said, as Barling trailed off. A long silence stretched between them, in which they both hesitated. Unsure of where to go next, unsure of exactly how hard to push. “And how do you actually _feel_ about that, Barling?”

“Terrible,” Barling said softly, and then gave an entirely bleak laugh that sounded actively painful. “I thought I was used to feeling bad about things, but apparently I’ve forgotten just how awful a person can feel. I’m not sure that I’ve felt like this since Paris, and that was hardly the most enjoyable experience of my life.”

He hesitated for another long moment. But Barling was obviously hurting, obviously sad, and he flattered himself that he at least knew how to act when his Barling was hurt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet,” Barling said softly, and hesitated for another moment himself before obviously coming to the same conclusion. Falling against him, almost desperately, and wrapping his arms around his neck even more tightly. “Soon, though, I promise. For now, though, would it be possible to just hold me?”

It was the easiest thing in the world, but he didn’t say so because he suspected that Barling already knew. He dragged the man against him, and held him as tightly as possible as the snow flurried gently down outside.

\--

“I don’t want to leave,” Barling said.

An entire day had passed, and the situation with the weather had only continued to get better as the situation inside only continued to get worse. The snow had fully settled down over the day, until only a few fat flakes were drifting lazily to the ground every few minutes or so. It wasn’t quite sunny yet, the general weather could be described as weakly foggy at best, but before it got to night there was a certain weak light on the horizon that suggested that beaming sunlight was only a matter of time. And as it got better and better, more and more promising, Barling got quieter and quieter and grimmer and grimmer.

They were sitting at opposite ends of the room in silence, both quietly trying to go about their day, and so when Barling actually spoke it was somewhat of a surprise. He looked up, from where he was checking what meagre rations remained, and blinked for a moment before slowly rising to his feet. He wasn’t exactly expecting Barling to make the first move, but he was hardly opposed to it.

“I don’t particularly want to leave either,” he said softly, and took a tentative step closer to Barling. He was pleased, beyond pleased, when Barling didn’t step back but instead leant a little towards him with a heart-rending sigh. “But unfortunately we have to. We only have enough food left for a few days more at most, and after that starvation beckons. I’m sure neither of us want that, not when it’s easily avoidable.”

“No, of course not,” Barling said, and hesitated for a long moment. But the man didn’t step back, didn’t withdraw again, but instead only took a slow and tentative step closer to him too. “I suppose what I really want is some magical way to stay here for the rest of our lives, without the risk of starvation and without having to desert our duties entirely.”

“The dream,” he said, and sent Barling a soft smile. It would take years to get all of his feelings towards the man out of his head and into the air, but he hoped that the soft smile at least served as a start. 

“This has been the best time of my life,” Barling said boldly, and judging by his wistful smile at least some of his passion had been communicated. Good, Barling deserved to know at least a little of how much he was loved and esteemed no matter how lowly he seemed to think of himself. “I mean, admittedly the first week wasn’t wonderful but after that it’s been more than I ever could’ve dreamed. I never thought that I could be happy again, never really believed that I even deserved it. But these past few days I’ve rediscovered what genuine joy is, I’ve felt happy and fulfilled and downright giddy about what the future could bring. In a strange way, I’ve actually felt like myself again.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, breathless at Barling’s confession. The thought that he’d inspired such happiness in the man, the man who surely deserved the most happiness in the world, was something that he’d treasure for the rest of his life. “Exactly what you mean, actually. I never quite realized that I was unhappy before, but I’ve been sleepwalking through life for years now. And this week I realized that I didn’t have to do that anymore. I feel like I’ve woken up again, except I’ve woken up to the most wonderful dream that I ever could’ve imagined. I feel wonderful, like I could dance and sing and make an utter fool out of myself just so the world knows how truly joyful I am.”

“Which is wonderful, but also terrifying,” Barling said, staring at him like he’d just turned into a unicorn. Like he was something wonderful and magical and entirely unexpected, who had just said a thousand impossible things with absolute sincerity. “Because now this time has to end, and now we have to go back to everyday life. And… I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m going to go back to my usual self, scared and spiky and never truly saying what he feels. I’m scared that everything is going to get in the way, that we’re never going to have a moment of genuine peace ever again. I’m scared that I’m not going to be brave enough, that I’m going to let any chance at happiness fly away again because I’m too scared to fight for what I truly want.”

“You’re the bravest person I know, so I’m not exactly worried about that,” he said, perfectly honestly. “But I do understand being worried, believe me. I’m worried that I’ll go back to my old self too, that I’ll just return to being feckless and carefree and sleepwalking through life without a thought. I’m worried that the world will intervene yet again, will tear yet another thing I care for away from me before I can do anything about it. I’m worried that I’m just not strong enough, to actually allow myself to be happy.”

“Strangely enough, I’m not particularly worried about you either, Hugo. You’re the strongest person I know by quite some way, I’m sure you’ll be absolutely fine.” Barling sighed, crossed his arms defensively over his chest. His heart ached for the man. “I suppose I’m just worried about everything else. About all of everyday life intruding, and making it impossible for us to be together. The world isn’t kind to people like me-”

“People like us,” he had to correct, taking another slow step closer.

“People like us,” Barling said immediately, though with a surprised glance in his direction that went some way to warming his heart. “I’m also afraid that it’ll take yet another thing I care for away from me and leave me nothing in return, and I’m genuinely not sure that I can survive that again.”

“Again, I know what you mean,” he said softly, and finally took the last few steps across the room until he could gently take Barling’s hands in his. “I survived losing Rosamund, just about, although it hardly felt like survival most of the time. But if I had you taken away from me… I know I couldn’t live through that again, it would gut me entirely and leave nothing behind.”

“That’s why I want to stay here. With you, just you. The two of us, happy and alone for the rest of our lives,” Barling said desperately, and didn’t yank away from him. Instead he only held on tighter, so much tighter that his joints actually happily creaked under the pressure. “I want to live the dream of being happy and in love, instead of the cold reality where I lose everything and resign myself to eternal misery yet again.”

It took a long moment for the full weight of Barling’s words to penetrate, but when they did he found his jaw dropping open in shock. “Aelred…”

“I’m sorry, what a way to put it,” Barling said softly, and he expected an immediate and somewhat shame-faced withdrawal. But instead the man looked him straight in the eye, and gave him a smile that was tremulous but deliberately brave. “To just drop it casually in the middle of a sentence, I mean. I love you, Hugo. I’ve loved you for a while now, in small increments that suddenly formed into a glorious tapestry. I love you with my whole body, my whole heart, my whole soul. I love you with everything I have in me, in a way that I never thought myself - or, indeed, anybody - capable of until I met you.”

He had never thought to expect such a confession from Barling, let alone such a bold and full-hearted one. He found himself gawping at the man for a long moment, capable only of weakly drawing air in and marvelling over the wonder that was Barling.

“Of course.” Barling was the bravest man he’d ever met, but he was also a man with a whole host of justified insecurities. After a long few moments of silence the man cleared his throat, started to shift awkwardly on his heels. “If you don’t feel the same way, that’s perfectly fine and I apologise…”

“There’s no need to apologise,” he said firmly, finally getting over himself, and took an even tighter grip on Barling’s hands when the other man awkwardly tried to pull away. “Of course I feel the same way, and I’m genuinely surprised that you haven’t noticed. I love you, Aelred. I love you so much, in every single possible way. I love how brave you are, how smart you are, how you always fight for the right thing instead of the easy thing. I love you when you’re giddy and when you’re spiky and everything in between. I’ve loved you since the moment I pulled you out of that coffin, if not long before, and I haven’t realized it until recently only because I’ve been an idiot. I love _you_.”

There was another long moment of silence, in which they stared at each other in equally awed shock.

And then he tugged on Barling’s hands and Barling stepped right up into his space, and they were hugging yet again but this time even more desperately than before. There was only the tangle of their limbs, Barling’s arms tight around him and Barling’s body ever so warm against his. He had never felt so safe in his life, so calm and protected and loved, and he already knew that he would never feel this with anybody else ever again.

“That’s why I don’t want to leave,” Barling said against his chest, slightly muffled. And then tilted his face up, and accepted the kisses that he immediately started to rain down upon it as his God given due. “That’s why I don’t want to risk anything coming in, and ruining this. I wish we could just stay here, or run away together and be happy together forever with nothing else to intervene.”

“We could,” he said softly, in between kisses. And then finally forced himself to push Barling back a little, to look the man in the eye like he absolutely deserved. “Or we could fight for what we love.”

He had been thinking about it for a while now in the back of his mind, but Barling’s confession had brought it roaring out into the light. They were both so used to things going wrong that curling up had become a habit for them, both of them not fighting against disappointment because they knew very well that it was liable to crush them no matter what they did. But what if, for the first time in years, they _did_ fight?

Barling was blinking up at him, and seemed decidedly confused by his words. The other man still hadn’t moved away, though. “Did you just hear what I said?”

“I heard what you said, and I totally sympathise with it,” he said firmly, and kept his arms wrapped firmly around Barling to give himself as much strength as he could. “And I know that it won’t be easy, or simple, or any of the other things that I’ve buried myself in over the past few years. I know that it’ll be hard, and tougher than almost anything we’ve been through before, and that thousands of things will probably go wrong and that we’ll have to fight for this every single day of our lives. I know that neither of us are naturally meant to be lovers, we’ve both been through far too much to manage that.”

Barling didn’t protest this time. Instead he only remained silent, wide eyed and staring at him with an utterly unreadable expression. And yet, and this started the painful seed of hope in his chest that could so easily blossom into flowers, he still didn’t move away.

“But isn’t it worth the fight?” Neither of them moved away, neither of them even seemed tempted to, and it was that that gave him the strength to push firmly onwards. “Isn’t the fact that we make each other happy worth it being hard? Isn’t the fact that we please each other worth it being tough? Isn’t the fact that we woke each other up from eternal sleep worth working through those thousands of things that will go wrong? Isn’t the fact that we love each other worth overcoming every single complication? I never thought that I could care for anybody ever again, I thought that the rest of my life would be an endless stretch of misery that could never be overcome… And then you walked in, and the sun came up. Don’t the both of us deserve that joy, just this once?”

“I…” Barling took in a deep breath, blinked hard as if he was fighting back the prickle of tears. “I’m still not entirely sure that I do.”

“I know. I’m still not entirely sure that I do myself, to be perfectly honest,” he said, breathlessly aware that that wasn’t an outright denial. “But I believe that you do, and I know that you believe that I do. And I also know that I will fight every single day of my life to make you happy and give you the world, and that you will do exactly the same for me.”

Barling made a choked noise and blinked again, this time with significantly less effect.

“...And isn’t that worth it?”

Another long moment of silence stretched out between them, in which Barling visibly fought to get himself under control. He still didn’t succeed, when he looked up again there were tear tracks on his cheeks and the very slightest wobble to his lip. “It will be hard.”

“But we make each other happy,” he said firmly, breathless and increasingly disbelieving at the temptation in Barling’s eyes.

“And it will be tough,” Barling continued, but still didn’t yank away and still kept staring up at him. “And thousands, if not millions, of things will go wrong. And we really will have to fight for it every day. And we’ll probably end up fighting each other on a lot of days. And you’ll probably end up regretting your decision a thousand times. And- And…”

“And we love each other,” he said softly, and finally eased his arms from around Barling’s body to gently cup the man’s face in his hands. “And so every single part of it, every single struggle, will be absolutely worth it.”

Barling remained silent for a long moment, still staring up at him with that unreadable expression. And then, slowly and impossibly, started to smile. “When did you become better at arguments than me, Hugo? Alright then.”

He blinked. Blinked again, hardly believing it. But Barling still hadn’t tugged away from him, and Barling was still smiling, and Barling was even leaning slowly closer to him like the man couldn’t bear for them to be parted even briefly. “Alright…?”

“Let’s be hopeful, for once in our lives. Let’s defy the stars, and the fates, and everything that says that nothing can ever work out for us. Let’s be happy and joyous and carefree for the rest of our lives. Let’s fight for the things that are worth it, because the only other options are misery or death. Let’s believe in things, in each other. Let’s be in love, and let nothing in the world stop us.” Barling stepped closer properly, wrapped his arms firmly around his waist and smiled up at him brighter than any sunbeam. “You’re worth every single bit of it, after all.”

There was another long moment of silence.

He let out a choked sob himself, helplessly, and swept in to seal their mouths together once again. Disbelievingly, happily, so in love that he felt like he could levitate with the sheer wonder of it. Barling was right, after all. It was all worth it, when they had each other.

\--

They always kissed each other desperately, as if they both still largely feared that the other one would disappear the moment they let go, but this time it was even more ferocious than before. He utterly lost himself in the passion of Baarling’s embrace, the two of them throwing themselves against each other like nothing else existed in the world and nothing else ever would.

“I need-” Barling gasped in one of their brief pauses, in which both of them obviously cursed the need for air, and then stopped and turned an adorable shade of red. “Um.”

“Me?” He teased, and laughed out loud when Barling gave him a look that was obviously meant to be a glare but that instead turned out inescapably fond. “You have me, Aelred, for now and forever. In whatever positions you desire.”

“In whatever positions I desire? Hm.” Barling hesitated for a long moment, as if gathering up his courage. And then arched up on his toes again, this time not to kiss him but to place his lips right up against his ear. “What if… Uh. What if one of those positions involved you being inside me?”

He swore that his vision whited out for a moment, in a white hot pulse of lust. He didn’t quite swoon, that would’ve just been silly, but he couldn’t deny that he went a bit weak at the knees at the thought. The very idea of being inside Barling’s body, of feeling him both underneath him and around him all at once… Well, he didn’t think that he’d encountered anything so perfect in all of his life.

Barling frowned a little, obviously misinterpreting his attempts to remember what language was, and rocked back a little to see his face. And then actually laughed out loud at whatever expression awaited there, obviously delighted. “Yes?”

“Obviously,” he said desperately, and just had to steal another quick kiss as Barling let out another totally undignified and totally wonderful laugh. “But, um, won’t I need something to ease the way? I’ve never done this before, not with a man at any rate, but I’m pretty sure that you need…”

When he drew back again Barling was smiling in a way that he’d never seen from the man before. No shadows, no restraint, just pure joy that utterly transformed his face. “There’s still some oil in the chest where the food was kept, I checked. That should work well enough.”

“Oh,” he said somewhat dumbly, and just had to lean down to kiss Barling’s radiant face over and over again. “Oh, alright then.”

They separated briefly, so Barling could hastily fish the jar of oil from the chest, and then came back together again even more passionately than before. They were entirely wrapped up in each other as they staggered towards the bed, unable to let go of each other for even a moment. There was only the meeting of their lips, the twining of their limbs, the promise of what waited imminently before them. All things considered, he didn’t mind a single bit of it.

He gently pushed Barling back until he tumbled to the covers, the man’s eyes bright and an irrepressible smile still clinging to his lips, and remained on his feet only long enough to tear off his own clothes. Everything, from his shirt to his shoes, was removed with the same careless haste and dropped thoughtlessly in a pile on the floor. There was no time for gentle consideration, after all, not when Barling was so clearly willing to let him inside.

He slowed down a little as he climbed on the bed, just to let Barling appreciate his naked body a little more. Vain of him, perhaps, but judging by the way Barling’s eyes trailed appreciatively across every single inch of him he was allowed a bit of vanity. He still wasn’t entirely used to a partner looking at him like they desired nothing else but him, it was intoxicating.

He remained slow as he reached for the fastenings of Barling’s clothes, as he knew that the man was significantly more fastidious than him. He drew the robes off slowly, removed the undergarments with just as much care. Once they were all off he made sure to fold them carefully, taking a certain amount of pleasure in the impatient noises that Barling made as he did so, and then laid them neatly off to the side.

The moment that his arms were free Barling grabbed him again, and yanked their mouths immediately back together. They made out like that on the bed, their limbs tangled and their naked cocks brushing together every few moments and raising delicious arousal between them. He could’ve got off quite comfortably like this, just with the sensation of Barling beneath him. He _had_ got off quite comfortably like this a few times before, and the knowledge was somewhat distracting.

There was more still to come, though, and both of them remembered that. After a few minutes of filthy making out Barling finally managed to grab his hand, unclenched it from where it was gripping the pillow ever so tightly and tugged it down their joined bodies until it rested right against the man’s hip.

“You need to finger me a little,” Barling murmured against his lips, and then blushed a little as if such filthiness - even if it was in aid of his own pleasure - was still deeply embarrassing to him. “With the oil. Just to ease the way a bit, for… Um.”

“One day I’ll get you to say the word cock,” he teased, unsurprised to find his voice gone rough with pleasure, and followed Barling’s instructions to the letter. Uncapped the bottle of oil, at the man’s gentle urging, and coated one of his fingers thoroughly before sliding it carefully in between the man’s pointedly spread legs.

The first finger in was a little more difficult than he’d been expecting, but luckily not by all that much. Barling gasped a little against his lips as he traced over his hole, but then deliberately forced himself to relax and pushed carefully up as he pushed carefully down. And then he was inside, and the sensation was even _better_ than he’d been expecting. Dryer than when he’d fingered women before, but still with the same pulsating heat and glorious tightness.

Barling remained tense for a long moment, obviously getting used to the sensation of being penetrated again after such a long drought, and then gave a little whimper and lapsed back against the bed. It was incredibly easy, after that, to slide his finger in deeper and set up a steady thrusting motion. One that got even better when Barling, after watching him silent and trembling for a long few moments, let out an oh so tentative moan.

That moan was his key to push even further, safe in the knowledge that Barling was actually enjoying this experience. He withdrew just a little, drawing an adorable noise of protest from Barling’s direction, to slick up a second finger and then pressed them both into Barling’s body at once. He had expected the same level of resistance as before, but Barling was obviously getting used to him as the man took him inside instantly. The pressure was even more intense this time, an active cling around his fingers, and he couldn’t help but anticipate what that tightness would feel like around his cock.

Barling was obviously getting more into it now that the initial strangeness had worn off. His original, highly tentative, moan had grown into a downright pattern of moans and gasps and sighs. His body continued trembling, overwhelmed with pleasure instead of nerves this time. He was even starting to actively rock his hips up, participating in the rhythm of thrusts instead of meekly allowing them.

One of the prime pleasures involved in going to bed with Barling, he was starting to discover, was watching the man fall apart entirely under his touch. He grinned to himself,a touch helplessly, and decided to push a little further. On the next thrust instead of just pressing his fingers in he opened them up, scissored them within Barling in the hope of drawing a little extra sensation.

He had been expecting, if anything, a slight increase in the pitch of the moans. But instead Barling made a noise like he’d never heard before, arched up off the bed entirely with his face a mask of ecstasy. He, half disbelieving that _he_ had been able to draw a reaction of such intensity, gently stretched his fingers again and was rewarded with the same cry but even louder.

Desperate to draw more of that sort of pleasure from Barling, as any decent person would’ve been, he drew back just a little to grab the oil again and slick up a third finger. He wasn’t sure how much more was needed, before he could get his cock inside of Barling instead of just his fingers, but he was hopeful that after a cry like that…

Barling, mercifully, proved himself a mind reader yet again. Before he could do more than slide that third slippery finger along the man’s hole he was sitting up, and grabbing him with a firm hand. “That’s enough, that’s more than enough. You can get inside me now.”

“I’m already-” he couldn’t resist starting to tease, because evidently his brain had failed entirely at the sight of Barling writhing in pleasure at his touch.

“ _Now_ , Hugo.”

Well, if he was given a direct order like that… He leant back to slick up his cock instead, following Barling’s impatient and hungry instructions to the letter, and then withdrew his fingers and slid back into position. He nudged right up against the man’s entrance, wondering dazedly what the best way to do this would be. But then Barling’s legs wrapped around his waist again, in a terribly tight grip, and the answer became absolutely obvious.

The first slide in was incredible. He had expected it to be good, had driven himself half mad furtively daydreaming about it, but for once reality far exceeded his dreamy expectations. All the same sensations were there, but pressing around his cock instead of his fingers. There was the slickness of the oil, the warmth of Barling’s body, the tightness of Barling’s insides drawing him steadily further in… It was the most absorbing experience of his life, and already ranked up there as one of the best.

Their eyes met, as he bottomed out within Barling. Even in the midst of their pleasure, they managed to share a brief smile. They had both longed for this for so long and so desperately, he couldn’t help but feel mildly disbelieving that he finally got to have it.

And then it was time to move.

The first thrust was slightly awkward, his desire to make this good for Barling - to make this the best fucking Barling had ever had, if he was going to be vain and honest yet again - making him fumbling where he usually would’ve been confident. He started off by thrusting too hard, and tried to correct halfway through only to end up thrusting too tentatively. As such he ended up flailing somewhat ineffectually on top of Barling, instead of actually making love to the man in any way.

Barling took this with great dignity, which was faintly mortifying but also somewhat reassuring. The man carefully adjusted his position on the bed, just so he had a slightly better angle, and held on to him tightly. He even leaned up to whisper a kiss along his cheekbone, a silent sign of encouragement that meant more than words could ever say.

He didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve Barling, this prickly man who could be so acidic and yet was always so very kind underneath, but he found himself determined to be worthy of him. His second thrust was a little more careful, a lot more deliberate. He was still getting used to the new sensations, more those of fucking somebody who meant something to him as opposed to fucking a man, but he found himself settling into them more and more by the moment.

Barling’s reaction to this was positive, although his reaction to the utter failure of a thrust had also been positive so maybe he was still just being kind. The man seemed genuinely into what he was doing, though, moaning and arching off the bed with every appearance of eagerness. Maybe they really could please each other, he thought and the thought filled him with a giddy kind of joy.

He was building up a rhythm now, a steady and passionate one. It was becoming increasingly possible to lose himself in Barling’s body, Barling’s reactions. As pleasure started to boil within him, higher and higher with every single movement of his hips, his self-consciousness started to fade away. He wanted to please Barling, and so he was going to please Barling. There was no other option.

Barling himself was making the matter incredibly easy, by being so obviously overcome by his attentions. The man was moaning underneath him almost constantly now, a sweet refrain that he tried to fix in his mind forevermore. He clutched at his shoulders, pressed their mouths together desperately, moved his hips perfectly in time with him. They were both on the edge of being lost in this, and that pleased him more than he ever thought possible.

He kept going, more determined than ever to lose himself entirely in Barling. Except maybe this wasn’t entirely being lost, maybe this was something strange and new and right on the edge of being found. It didn’t matter much either way, really, he could think through all the details later. For now he only kept moving, kept losing himself eagerly in Barling’s body and shoving all thoughts of anything else aside.

Barling seemed to be of much the same mind, equally willing to shove everything else aside. The man was usually so caught up in his own thoughts, so prone to driving himself to the point of misery. But now he seemed utterly absorbed, now he seemed free. He kept clutching at his back, kept moving his hips desperately, kept moaning with a shamelessness that was utterly unexpected and utterly wonderful. Barling seemed determined to lose himself too, and he was determined to give the man everything he ever wanted.

The pleasure was building ever higher in him now, driving him to the point of sweet madness. The entire world had narrowed yet again, until only the two of them mattered. There was only the slide of sweaty skin together, the sweetness of Barling’s lips against his, the tightness of Barling’s body around him. There was only the heady feeling of arousal, sweeping everything else away before it.

Barling moaned against him one last time, and then bucked his hips and stiffened for an impossible moment. He found himself not quite wanting this to end, but also desperate to rush to a conclusion. And, if anything, there was a promise in this: that no matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they could lose themselves in each other. They could narrow the world to just the two of them, together, and leave everything else to wait outside.

It was a nice thought, one of the nicest thoughts that he’d ever had. And he made sure to keep it prime in his mind as he stiffened himself, and as he choked, and as he trembled… And as he spilled, a wonderful and intense orgasm right into Barling’s willing body. It felt astonishing, it felt like all his dreams had come true, it felt like he was coming home to where he had always meant to be.

Barling remained stiff against him for a moment more, but mercifully he was closer to the edge this time. The man trembled, and then let out a harsh noise right against his ear and came too. With the same irresistible snap of his hips, the same desperate melting that obviously meant he had emptied just as much of himself into this coupling as he had.

They sagged together in the aftermath, both gasping and sweaty and undone. The world started to creep back in small increments, a little flash of cold here and the noise of the horses next door there, but it still didn’t matter much. The most important thing was still them, their bodies entwined warmly together on the bed.

“I love you,” he gasped when he’d finally got his breath back, and shakily propped himself up on his elbows to brush the hairs from Barling’s tonsure carefully back into place.

Barling studied him for a long moment, his eyes thoughtful. And then slowly started to smile like a glorious sunbeam once again. “I love you too.”

And they leant in for a kiss at the exact same time, both knowing - he believed in his heart of hearts - that it would all be alright in the end.

\--

The next morning, when they awoke, the sun was shining through properly. No more snow fell, no more wind whirled. There was only an endlessly stretching expanse of white, one that already looked to be melting away. It was cold and needed careful attention, yes, but it was still perfectly traversable in a way that it hadn’t been in weeks.

They stayed in bed an hour, or several hours, longer than they should’ve. And then finally got up, got dressed, packed everything that they had neatly back into bags and then ate a brief breakfast. They walked into the stable together, hand in hand and both knowing that there was no real point in delaying. They had to get out now, not knowing how long this brief window of opportunity would last.

He helped Barling mount up, a quick boost that the man took with about as much dignity as possible, and then slung the packs over the back of his own horse and carefully climbed up. He checked that everything was in order, checked that his mount was eager and ready to go, checked that he himself felt well enough for a long and possibly somewhat difficult ride…

And glanced over at Barling, an undeniable sense of fondness rising up in his chest as he watched the man awkwardly fiddle with his reins. “Hey.”

There was a long moment, and then Barling glanced over at him with a silent question in his eyes. The man looked nervous, but determined. Which was more than he’d ever expected, to tell truth.

“I just wanted to remind you of something,” he reached out, laced their hands together over Barling’s reins. Was pleased, when Barling didn’t even hesitate for a moment before turning his hand over and gripping just as tightly. “That I love you, and that the two of us will still be together out there, and that we can work through absolutely everything as long as both of those things are true.”

“You’re such an optimist,” Barling said fondly, and gently squeezed his hand. It wasn’t a particularly intimate touch, but he felt it like a caress against his skin. “I love you too, Hugo.”

He smiled to himself, knowing exactly what Barling meant, and leaned over to give the man a lingering kiss. And then it was forwards, out of their little sanctuary and back into the outside world again. Off to new adventures, hand in hand as always.


End file.
